Guilty Notebook
by KovatePrivalski97
Summary: Eric Cartman has done things he should apologize for... What will happen when he is forced to do so, supervised by his eternal rival? / Kyman; Stendy; Bunny; Creek
1. Damn Monday

**Warning:** _This fanfic contains mostly the Kyman pairing (Best Pairing Ever in the Whole Wide World *w*). If you don't like this pairing, or you are homophobic, or you ship other pairing... -coughcoughStyle/Candy/AnyOthercoughcough-and you cannot stand this one... please, stop reading now. I don't care the classic review: "ooohh, kyman, yuck, no sense, blah, blah, stupidity, blah", right? Thank you very much. ;) _

_Cover by TheButterfly7 _

_Fanfic dedicated to _**Ringo-Tensai**._ Because I'm so mean I turned Kyman into one of her OTPs mwahahahahaha xD Oh, and because she's the best friend, reader and future writer of the Galaxy ;3_

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**ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS FANFIC-EVEN THOSE BASED ON REAL PEOPLE-ARE ENTIRELY FICTIONAL AND BELONG TO TREY PARKER AND MATT STONE. ALL THE CHARACTERS RETAIN THEIR ORIGINAL PERSONALITY... POORLY. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE, SHONEN-AI/YAOI/SLASH, POSSIBLE OUT OF CHARACTER, ETC., AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT, IT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE.**

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1

Damn Monday

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It was late afternoon and the sun was starting to set, but I couldn't be less interested in that. I was only interested in getting next to that bastard and smashing his face.

I opened the front door of our High School, and I realized that I had come in the second recess. Perfect. I walked among the students, pushing some of them out of my way, cursing steadily and earning poisoned stares and insults of all kinds, but again, I couldn't be less interested.

Then I saw him putting something in his locker and laughing with another guy. My hands turned into fists as I hurried toward him with narrowed eyes like a hunter trying to intimidate his prey.

The guy who was at his side, Kenny, saw me coming and made a surprised expression that almost made me laugh. I pushed my wild red hair out of my face and continued.

My prey was a very tall person, much taller than me, but that wouldn't make me chicken out. When I got to him, I touched his shoulder absently and he turned to me. His hazel eyes widened, and he even opened his mouth to say something, but I didn't want to hear him.

It seemed like time ran slower while my right fist inevitably went straight to his face. The impact was so strong that it resonated throughout the hall and attracted everyone's attention to us.

All witnesses of my furious punch to Eric Cartman.

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But let's stop here. Before continuing, I should tell you everything from the beginning. Maybe then you'll understand why I was so pissed off.

It all started on a Monday. I hate Mondays, as almost everyone does, because Monday meant High School, and High School meant assholes, and asshole meant Cartman. And I couldn't stand any of those things.

Waiting for the bus every morning had become a habit. We took the bus since Primary together, why would we stop doing so the last year of High School?

I don't know why, but the four of us were still together. I thought that when we had to begin in High School, Cartman would look for neo-Nazis little friends, Kenny would join Porn Addicts Club, and Stan would be the only friend I'd have. However, Cartman was still a fucking neo-Nazi, but a lonely fucking neo-Nazi; Kenny still saw porn everywhere (even when he closed his eyes), but he was with us; and Stan, he was the same as always.

Something that really struck me was the fact that Kenny was single. He was very handsome, really nice, and had a job, but he still didn't have a girlfriend. From the sixth grade, he had left his eternal orange parka, and now his ash blond hair and blue eyes were his best presentation card. Obviously, there were some girls who drooled for him, but he didn't take any of them seriously.

Stan was the opposite to that. He did take girls seriously, but only of them: Wendy. Sometimes I wondered how and why those two had managed to stay together for so long. He, for example, knew how to look his casually messy hair, and his deep blue eyes were reasons for many fangirling around him. Besides being tall and athletic, he was South Park team's quarterback, and offered him some benefits with teachers and other students.

Meanwhile, Wendy is not left behind which was concerned with popularity, as well as being Star Student, Class President, Editor of School Newspaper, Drama Club Member and Expert in First Aid, she was also Cheer Leader, and some say she can breathe underwater, like Seaman .

So how had they managed to keep their relationship afloat for so many years? I never asked to Stan, but I probably should.

Someone who didn't know a shit about long-term relationships (or relationships themselves), was Cartman. His longest relationship lasted a week, and it was with Patty Nelson was in seventh grade. He broke up with her because he got bored, and he wanted to "show her what it feels like to be rejected." After that, we never saw him with any other girlfriend. And it wasn't because he couldn't have one.

I really hate to say this, but since his mother forced him to join the Fight Club in sixth grade, Cartman was no longer the same. He had lost weight in a matter of months, and although he wasn't as slim as a top model, where he isn't skinny, he's got muscle. That asshole was the tallest of the four of us, and also strongest too! I'm sure that **anyone** would think twice before getting him mad.

**Anyone** but me.

I, by the way, haven't changed much. I'm the shortest of our group, as well as being skinny as a ballet dancer. Kenny often said that my body was like a girl's one, but without boobies. And although I know he's kidding, I think he might be right. Even the features of my face are too delicate, my green eyes are huge, with long eyelashes, and my nose is small and upturned, plus some freckles covering my cheeks.

When I just turned thirteen (and my Bar Mitzvah declared me "adult Jew"), I literally ran to the nearest salon. When I returned home, the big fluffy thing I had for hair was gone (to the horror of my mother), and now attractive red curls fell over my face. And it's like that since then, although I keep my green ushanka covering my head, some curls escape from it.

I never had a girlfriend, and I'm not planning to have one. And that's because I'm gay.

I realized one night at Stan's house, when we were having a sleepover. I noticed that my friends were excited to see a girl in a bikini, and I felt nothing. On the other hand, every time I saw a tall, hot shirtless guy, I started trembling from head to toe, and a burning was present my cheeks. At first I was scared, but then I managed to accept myself.

However, I didn't tell anyone but Stan. I remember when I told him, he was silent a few minutes, staring nowhere. Then he laughed, and that relaxed me a little.

"If that makes you happy, it's fine for me" he said, poking my arm playfully

His reaction made me so happy, that I couldn't help but throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. As he was taller than me, he had to bend a little, and even corresponded my hug throwing his arms around my waist, but I could feel him completely froze and I started to feel uncomfortable.

I was away from him quickly, and then I saw him smile again. Since that day we haven't been talking about that, which is good and bad at the same time.

Good: because Stan doesn't feel uncomfortable around me anymore and that's fantastic, because I hated to see my super best friend getting all nervous every time we were alone.

Bad: because I had no one to talk to about my feelings.

But back to the beginning, it all started a fucking Monday afternoon. I had just come home from a normal day (waiting for the bus, argue with Cartman, reaching High School, argue with Cartman, ten-minute recess, lunch, argue with Cartman and go home... oh, arguing with Cartman, obviously).

As I just put my ass on the couch in the living room, my mother appeared in front of me.

"Bubbala, leave your stuff and we'll get going," she warned, her hands on her waist

I lifted my eyes lazily, deep sighing, and before I could ask my father said:

"Liane, your friend Eric's mother, decided to conduct an intervention for him. "

Now I couldn't help but snort. I came home to have a break from that asshole, and now I had to go to his house. That's why I hate Mondays.

"Intervention, huh?," I repeated, getting up and throwing on my backpack to the couch. "Why _this time_?"

"Well, a psychiatrist found out he's a sociopath...," continued my father, as I rolled my eyes: that wasn't new. "And Liane asked us to go and help her."

I considered the option of pleading him to leave me at home, stating that Cartman wasn't my friend, but I stopped. Stan and Kenny would probably be there too, so we could laugh at the fatass (nah, even if he has lost weight, old habits never change).

My father opened the door to my mother, then waited for me to come out. But I was too busy watching Ike settling himself into the couch and taking the TV remote.

"Aren't you coming?," I hissed squinting

"No, I'm too young for those things...," he said, rolling his fingers elegantly through his black hair. Then he smiled. "Have fun, Kyle. "

And as I walked out the door, gritted my teeth to the victorious look of my eleven years old brother...

Damn you, Ike!

Oh, and damn Mondays too!

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Hi to everyone who's reading this!

First of all: thanks for reading! Second of all (?): thanks for reviewing, if you feel like it! This is my fourth fanfic, but the first one about South Park! *O* Also this is the first time I'm publishing in English... I'm from Uruguay and I speak Spanish, so maybe there are some errors in this fic, as I don't speak English frequently... if you notice anything wrong, just tell me ;)

This chapter was mostly for introduction, that's all. Like I've already said, I have no problem if you like any other pairing and not this one, only if you read under your own responsibility and don't come insulting later. Anyways, constructive criticism is always welcome (grammatical errors, OoC -Out Of Character-, anything).

Whatever, I hope you liked this, and you leave your opinions in the reviews box. I always respond every review I get, so you'll have your answer in the next chapter. :)

_Read_ you soon.

_-*-_-*-_KovatePrivalski97._-*-_-*-_

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Edit: This chapter was edited today -January 14th, 2014- A friendly reviewer, **sun-stone-r-rain**, noticed some grammatical errors. She told me and I fixed them. If you see any other error please let me know. Thank you.


	2. Dirty Slut with a Good Heart

**Warning:** _This fanfic contains mostly the Kyman pairing (Best Pairing Ever in the Whole Wide World *w*). If you don't like this pairing, or you are homophobic, or you ship other pairing... -coughcoughStyle/Candy/AnyOthercoughcough-and you cannot stand this one... please, stop reading now. I don't care the classic review: "ooohh, kyman, yuck, no sense, blah, blah, stupidity, blah", right? Thank you very much. ;) _

_Cover by TheButterfly7 _

_Fanfic dedicated to _**Ringo-Tensai**._ Because I'm so mean I turned Kyman into one of her OTPs mwahahahahaha xD Oh, and because she's the best friend, reader and future writer of the Galaxy ;3_

* * *

**ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS FANFIC-EVEN THOSE BASED ON REAL PEOPLE-ARE ENTIRELY FICTIONAL AND BELONG TO TREY PARKER AND MATT STONE. ALL THE CHARACTERS RETAIN THEIR ORIGINAL PERSONALITY... POORLY. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE, SHONEN-AI/YAOI/SLASH, POSSIBLE OUT OF CHARACTER, ETC., AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT, IT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE.**

* * *

2

Dirty Slut with a Good Heart

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"Thank you all for coming. It really means a lot to me... "

While Liane Cartman started talking, I sighed heavily. When we just arrived, I noticed quite a few people sitting in that house living room. Kenny, Stan and Butters were sitting on the couch, the first two with bored expressions, and the last one was a little worried.

In some chairs scattered throughout the room, there were seated the Stotch's, the Marsh's and McCormick's. My father pulled an empty chair for my mother, and he stood beside her. I sat on the couch, where Stan and Kenny made me a space squeezing Butters to the seat's uncomfortable corner.

"I know that if you were in my situation, you'd also appreciate all the possible help...," Liane continued with her speech, and I couldn't help but feeling a little sorry for her, although the rumors about her nocturnal adventures were true, she was a good woman who was able to raise her son alone... as best as she could, "But I want to present someone to you: Dr. Smith. He'll explain everything better than me."

When she just finished saying that, from another room (probably the kitchen, I don't know very well this house) came a veteran man, and quite tall, carrying a leather briefcase and a friendly smile. I glanced at Kenny, and saw a little furrowed brow in him, as if he had seen that man before.

For a second, I could swear the man smiled a little to Kenny, but I dismissed the thought, shaking my head.

"Good evening everyone, my name is Charles Smith, and I am a psychiatrist," he presented himself, resting his briefcase on the small table opposite the couch. A few murmurs of what seemed to be a 'good evening' were heard and he continued "See, a week ago I received a visit from Liane to my office, where we talked about the aggressive and insensitive behavior of her son Eric..."

The doctor was interrupted when the front door of the house opened suddenly. All eyes turned to the door, and there was Cartman, his face expressing extreme confusion, and he ran his eyes over us all.

"What the fuck is this?," he snapped then, frowning

"Oh, hi honey!," his mother greeted him, approaching him quickly, and when she reached him, I noticed that she barely reached his shoulders

"Hi Mom," he said, barely looking at her. Then his eyes turned to us, and he repeated "What the fuck is this?"

As none of us spoke, he looked at the doctor, who turned around to face him with a friendly smile.

"Hi, Eric," he said slowly, measuring his words "My name is Charles Smith, and I'm here to help you..."

"Help me? I don't need any help," Cartman refuted with a smirk "I don't need you, _sir_."

The tone in which his voice caressed the word '_sir_' couldn't be more dismissive. He didn't even know the person in front of him, but his aggressiveness was always there. If I were the doctor, I would have sent him to hell because he's obviously a lost cause, but the doctor didn't stop smiling all the time.

"Your mother thought otherwise when she came to my office, you know?," Smith replied, briefly looking at Liane. Cartman clenched his fists and I smiled: this guy was putting him in place "I am a psychiatrist, Eric, and your mother asked my HELP for you. I'm here to talk to you and find a solution to your problems..."

"I don't have any problems..." the boy murmured, and then laid eyes on us, especially recharging his hate on me "And you all, get out of my house now!"

"Eric, if we're here is because we care about you..." said Sharon Marsh, but she only received from Cartman a scandalous sarcastic laugh

"With all due respect, Mrs. Marsh, but you can suck my balls," he blurted, still laughing a little at the horrified reactions of the adults in the room. I could see that Stan was frowning and tense, starting to get mad. "I remind you that you have two children to worry about; the same goes for you, Jews," he said, smiling cheekily at my parents. Then he noticed the McCormick's maliciously. "You have three children, and are so poor that have little for drugs; and you," said to the Stotch's, while Kenny clenched fists, trying to not respond "you have a sissy and stupid son who's useless," as was expected, Butters didn't show angry, but hurt instead, while his parents were offended by what they heard. Satisfied with his monologue, Cartman got his smile to be even more hurtful. "So, do you really care about me? Don't bother, please."

Silence filled the room, but wouldn't last long. Noting that no one would intervene, I inhaled and exhaled deeply, ready to tell Cartman a few truths, but my mother beat me:

"How dare you, you insolent child?," she exclaimed, rising quickly from her chair and approaching Cartman dangerously. "Don't you respect your elders?

Cartman gave another of his irritating mocking laughter, and just looked at my mother with disdain from above... I'm sure my mom regretted not being taller. Liane moved forward, standing in front of her son protectively.

"I'm sorry, Sheila, seriously... but this is him," she whispered, looking down at my mom's black heels. Sighing, she continued. "I... can't control him.

"But he's your son! How have you educated him?," said my mom, putting her hands on her waist in her usual way. "I mean, look at Kyle, for example..."

No, Mom! I feel like sinking into the couch and disappearing. Why does she always have to bring to light how well she have educated me, and all that shit? I hate that! And I'm not the only one...

"Oh, yes! Mom, look at Kyle!," crooned Cartman, gesticulating with his hands in my direction. "Kyle's perfect! Jewish Perfection Perfect Personification...!

"Kyle isn't perfect!," answered my redhead mother, pointing an accusingly finger at Cartman. "But he is educated, not like you!"

"Correction, Mrs. Broflovski! Your son is _well-learned_, but you've educated him the wrong way!"

"What, what, WHAT?!"

In return to my mother's turmoil Cartman began to imitate her... poorly

"_Oh, Kyle, don't wear that clothes! Oh, Kyle, study until your eyes fall out of their places! Oh, Kyle, don't breathe that much, you're wasting air...!" _

"Shut the fuck up, Cartman!"

Nobody was surprised when I got up from my seat like I had a spring in my butt. I had already spent too much time watching that asshole mock my mother, and I had enough. He looked up at me, and his smile returned.

"What is it, Kahl? Did I hurt your perfect pride?"

"I told you to shut up!"

"Like I'm gonna listen to you, Jew!"

While both of us were still throwing daggers in the form of words, Stan pinched the bridge of his nose as was characteristic of him, murmuring: _'Oh God, not again...'_ while Kenny grinned, whispering:

"Just today I didn't bring my camera...! Wait, I have no camera... oh dear."

Cartman and I ignored them (as always), and we were so focused on our discussion, we hardly noticed that Liane had started to sob a little, and when she increased the volume of her cries, we both fell silent at once and all of us turn our attention to her.

"You're right, Sheila! He's my son, but it isn't his fault to be like this! IT'S MY FAULT!," she exclaimed, now crying her tear out. Before Cartman could say anything (or anyone could react), she continued. "I thought giving him everything he asked would make him happy! I wasn't with him when he needed me! I didn't correct him when he made his evil acts, and I'm a terrible mother!

"Don't say that!," intervened Linda Stotch, rapidly approaching her and being imitated by Sharon, surrounding her and ignoring her surprised son, who looked at them blankly. "You've made mistakes... but Liane, you've raised him on your own, with no one to help you! You're a great woman!"

"Ehm... yes, that's right," my mother nodded, though for the tone of her voice, I knew she didn't think so. Carol McCormick joined the _'Club of the Weeping Mothers'_, and the four women began to mourn together, all except my mom. "Come to the kitchen, we'll prepare tea..."

The five women retreated to the kitchen to the astonishment of all men in the room. Nobody had expected that reaction, much less Cartman. He stared at the empty space where her mother had been, but made no move, nor said anything on his face. I glared at him with my arms crossed, and if stares could kill, Cartman would be already dead. I knew he was a jerk, but make his own mom cry? Although my mother has her bad things, I would never make her cry. Fucking idiot.

Noting the way our mothers who had taken to the kitchen, Butters slightly furrowed brow and asked,

"How many people are needed to make tea?"

"Approximately one million," Kenny quipped, smirking

"Oh, hamburgers! 999,995 people are still missing!," the little blond said, and I had to look away from Cartman, to look at him incredulously. Kenny, meanwhile, just ruffled his hair a bit, friendly, still smiling.

Dr. Smith cleared his throat, while all our parents looked at each other not knowing what to say or do. Smith approached Cartman slowly, as if afraid to press the wrong button and make him explode. When he was at his side, rested his right hand on his shoulder gently.

"Eric... I think your mom would feel better if she knew that at least you tried," whispered, so quietly that we could hardly hear him. To our surprise, Cartman nodded without saying a word, Smith smiled confidently. "Come with me, let's take a walk..."

The doctor opened the front door, and Cartman quickly left without turning around for a moment. Before leaving, Smith turned to us.

"Gentlemen, you'd better go away: thank you for your presence, but surely you have more things to do," he granted, winking briefly. Then he turned his attention to the occupants of the couch. "Guys, I must ask you to stay. I need to talk to you later."

With nothing left to say, he closed the door behind him, without even waiting for an answer. Small silence, which lasted until a little until Stan's dad rose from his seat with a huge smile on his face:

"Let's go to the bar!"

The other men -unless my father- nodded, laughing a little. My father shifted uncomfortably, shrugging.

"I don't think Sheila would like that idea...," he whispered, staring at the floor

"She doesn't need to know, Gerald," Randy Marsh said, throwing an arm over my dad's shoulders. He smiled a bit, then nodded

"Kyle, tell your mother that... I got a call from the office, okay?," he asked me with pleading eyes. And although I hated to lie, I nodded too. My father smiled and they all went together, laughing like fools to a perverted joke by Stuart McCormick.

The door closed behind them silently, and I dropped myself back onto the couch, sighing. The four of us were silent for a moment, until Kenny started laughing a little.

"You know? I felt kinda bad for Cartman's mom...," he muttered, and before I could agree with him, he continued "... but have you seen her boobies! They are amazing, right Stan?

Stan brow furrowed slightly, looking up, but didn't answered. I smiled a bit: it was fun to see Kenny trying to get my best friend to see beyond Wendy... even if he had to see Cartman's mom.

"What about you, Kyle?," Kenny pulled his disappointed look from Stan, and turned to me. Obviously, I could not be honest and say,_ 'I don't know, Kenny, I never looked to any boobies in my life'_, so I just shrugged. The disappointment on his face was even more evident when he noticed Butters, muttering: "Forget it."

Before another silence was formed, the five women that were in the kitchen all came together, chatting and in a much better mood.

"Thank you for supporting me, girls," thanked Liane, while all of them gathered at the front door to our attentive eyes

"No problem, dear!," cried Linda, smiling quietly and with a hand on her shoulder. "We're your friends, right?"

"Uhm... Yeah, right," my mother said, and again I knew by her tone of voice that she didn't mean what she was saying. Awkwardly, she looked at me and frowned. "Kyle, where is your father?"

"In the b... at work, he got a call a while ago," I mumbled, biting my tongue, trying to not betray my dad. I'm terrible lying, and I confirmed it when my mom looked at me with narrowed eyes, but said nothing.

"Well, Kenny, I think we have to go," warned Mrs. McCormick, crossing her arms over her chest

"Mom, we have to stay, that... Doctor," the pause Kenny did before saying "Doctor" was strange, and returned to me the feeling that he already knew Smith, but from any other place. "He wants to talk to us later."

"Oh, don't worry: they can stay for dinner if necessary," said Mrs. Cartman, with a smile to our mothers

"In that case, we're going," said Sharon, greeting with a kiss on the cheek to the owner of the house. "I must go find Randy, surely he's in the bar..."

I gulped and I feared for my father's fate, as our mothers retreated from the house peacefully (my mother didn't forget to remind me that I '_had a lot of homework at home_' and that I mustn't be late, to my grief). Once the door was closed, Mrs. Cartman approached us and stood in front of the couch, smiling.

"Boys, thank you very much for everything. I know Eric can be somewhat aggressive with some of you...," she whispered, her eyes lingering on me for a few seconds and I just looked away. "... but he's a good boy, you know? Yes, he's a good boy, I know he is..."

Her voice sounded distant, like she was trying to convince herself that what she said was true. From my part, I knew that _Eric_ wasn't a good boy: he was a foul-mouthed bastard,, good for nothing, evil and hateful. But I wouldn't say all of that to the poor woman, so I bit my lip as she was heading to the kitchen.

Before disappearing through the door, she paused and a sly smile played on her face:

"Oh, Kenny," she called in a... seductive hum? He devoted his attention to her right away, and we all looked at them both curiously. "You can meet _my boobies_ whenever you want to..."

And winking playfully, Liane Cartman walked into the kitchen. Stan suppressed an outrageous laugh, as I smiled a little at that situation. Butters looked uncomfortable.

"What about _now_, baby?," Kenny answered at nothing, still with his eyes on the kitchen door and smiling dreamily

"What about _never_?," Butters blurted, with a slight frown. Quickly we all dedicated him questioning looks, especially Kenny, who had raised eyebrows and a crooked little smile. Butters looked down, blushing slightly. "I-I mean ... that Eric won't l-like to know you saw h-his mom boobies, r-right?

"That's true," said Stan, suddenly turning serious. Before Kenny complained, he continued. "Unless... you want your parents served at your table for dinner.

Kenny's face presented a slight concern, but he smiled, putting a hand to his chin to pretend that he was thinking.

"Well...," he muttered, still _'thinking'_ "... at least I'd have something to eat."

Stan and Kenny started laughing loudly, both doubling over their stomachs and breathing hard. Neither me nor Butters found that joke that funny: Butters snorted softly, crossing his arms.

I could only think of one thing.

Cartman's mom was still a dirty slut... but one with a good heart.

* * *

Hello again!

This is Chapter 2, did you like it? I hope you did! Anyways, you can tell me what you think with a review. I answer every review I get with a PM, and if you don't have an account I'll answer you in next chapter. So feel free to give me you opinion! :)

* * *

Special Thanks to...

... **Idkgirl27** and **ActionGal07**, for _Reviewing_!

... **Feniella of Suburbia**, for adding this story to _Favorites_!

... **Idkgirl27**, **Michi-chan2** and **Feniella of Suburbia**, for _Following_ this story!

... the _Ghost Readers_, a friendly nickname for those people who read your stories, but they never review of anything: they're like ghosts, they're are there but you can't _'see them'_.

* * *

That's all, folks! Like I said in last chapter, if you see any error in this chapter, please let me know with a review or a PM, okay? That would really help me. ;3

Oh, and remember, no matter what pairing you ship, always respect others! Please, don't flame Kyman. It's only a pairing, and nobody is trying to obligate you to like it or something.

I really hope you liked this chapter, I'll upload chapter 3 as soon as I can!

_Read_ you soon!

_-*-_-*-_KovatePrivalski97._-*-_-*-_


	3. Beast from the Shadows

**Warning:** _This fanfic contains mostly the Kyman pairing (Best Pairing Ever in the Whole Wide World *w*). If you don't like this pairing, or you are homophobic, or you ship other pairing... -coughcoughStyle/Candy/AnyOthercoughcough-and you cannot stand this one... please, stop reading now. I don't care the classic review: "ooohh, kyman, yuck, no sense, blah, blah, stupidity, blah", right? Thank you very much. ;) _

_Cover by TheButterfly7 _

_Fanfic dedicated to _**Ringo-Tensai**._ Because I'm so mean I turned Kyman into one of her OTPs mwahahahahaha xD Oh, and because she's the best friend, reader and future writer of the Galaxy ;3_

* * *

**ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS FANFIC-EVEN THOSE BASED ON REAL PEOPLE-ARE ENTIRELY FICTIONAL AND BELONG TO TREY PARKER AND MATT STONE. ALL THE CHARACTERS RETAIN THEIR ORIGINAL PERSONALITY... POORLY. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE, SHONEN-AI/YAOI/SLASH, POSSIBLE OUT OF CHARACTER, ETC., AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT, IT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE.**

* * *

3

Beast from the Shadows

* * *

We were alone in Cartman's living room for about half an hour, in which Liane had brought us milk and cookies (urgh, like we were fourth graders again), throwing naughty glances at Kenny from time to time. None of us touched the food... well, only one of us did.

When the front door opened suddenly, Butters almost choked with a chocolate chip cookie, and had to drink a huge sip from his glass of milk to recover. When Cartman walked in, accompanied by Dr. Smith, and saw Butters trying to breathe again, I expected him to burst into maniacal laughter: as he always did when he saw someone suffering.

My surprise was huge when he just looked at us with no expression on his face. Hearing the door open, Liane left the kitchen running, and approached her son and the doctor.

"Eric, sweetie! How are you, baby?," she asked him with a sweet voice, but he was expressionless as he looked at her

"I'm fine...," he muttered, beginning to walk upstairss to the top floor. He stopped a moment. "Mom... I'm sorry."

Without giving us time to react to that, he hurried upstairs, his heavy footfalls rumbling in the house, and after a few seconds, a door slamming shook the hose foundations. The boys and I exchanged astonished looks. Cartman... apologizing? Eric Son-Of-A-Bitch Cartman apologizing to his mother? Well, it would have been better if we hid in a cave: that was an apocalyptic sign.

Liane looked as surprised as us, and tried to go upstairs too, but Smith stopped her, shaking his head slowly.

"Leave him alone for a while, so he can think clearly," he kindly asked, and with a small smile. The woman nodded reluctantly, and hurried back to the kitchen. When she walked us by, I could almost see her tears go down her cheeks.

We looked back at the doctor, who was watching us too closely. He seemed especially interested in Kenny and... me? I shifted uncomfortably under the watchful eye of that man, who seemed completely quiet.

"Okay, guys, we have to talk," he said at last, breaking the silence immediately. "Let's take a walk"

"Alright," said Kenny for us all, quickly getting to his feet. We imitated him slowly, giving him a weird look. He never took his eyes off the man. "Only if you have a moment to speak with me _alone_... doctor."

Again! That fucking pause before the word "doctor", it was driving me crazy! Why would Kenny want to speak _alone_ with him? I frowned and bit my lower lip slightly, which I usually did when I was confused.

"Sure, Kenneth," the doctor nodded, his smile widening a bit. Stan and I shared knowing glances: nobody ever called Kenny by his real name... "But first we talk together, okay? "

There was no need of any confirmation from us, the doctor opened the front door again and pointed with his hand to get out. Obediently, the four of us faced the constant cold and snow of our monotonous mountain village. We heard the door close behind us, and the doctor was ahead of us, forcing us to rush a little our steps. Stan and I were on his right, Butters and Kenny on his left.

"Well, guys, I'll start with simple questions," he warned us, hiding his hands in his pockets casually. "We begin with you, Stan Marsh, right?"

"Ehm ... yeah, it's me," my friend nodded, a little nervous about the glare that man gave him

"Liane told me that your relationship with Eric is quite distant, but still you've known each other for years, all of you," Smith said, his eyes walking among us. I fought with myself to stifle a yawn, I was really bored.

"Well, definitely we aren't best friends, but...," Stan began, scratching his neck nervously "... well, yeah, we've known each other since Kindergarten..."

"And he's always been like that? I mean, aggressive and disrespectful..."

"Yeah. He's like that with everyone. "

Smith was silent a moment, as we crossed the street and kept walking straight. Then he turned to his left.

"Do you want to say something, Leopold?," he asked suddenly, and I furrowed my brow a little, somewhat confused by that name

"U-um... well, I-I think I'm good friends with E-Eric, sir. H-he's a little bit mean sometimes, b-but... I-I think he's good when he wants to," Butters replied, and then I understood why the doctor had spoken to him that way. "C-can I ask you a f-favor? Call me Butters. E-everyone does."

"Very well...," the doctor murmured, nodding slightly. Then sighed, and continued. "Guys, I'll ask you all a question, and I want you to be honest: Eric is aggressive with everyone, but is there anyone that he NEVER treated right?"

My friends' answer was like a terrible chorus of an obvious fact:

"KYLE!"

All eyes turned to me, and I felt my face flush with anger. I hate being the center of attention. I looked away quickly, snorting loudly. We kept walking, but going much slower than when we started.

"Kyle... Do you agree with your...?"

"Yeah," I interrupted the doctor impatiently, frowning. Damn Monday, damn Cartman, damn everybody! "He's an asshole to me just because I'm Jewish. And he's a fucking anti-Semitic, so yeah."

"So you could say that you are the person he... hates the most?," Smith continued, seemingly indifferent to my annoyed voice.

"Exactly: that's how it is, and it's never gonna change," I answered quickly, sounding a little more rude than I intended, but I didn't chicken out. "I hate him. He hates me. Everyone is happy. "

A small awkward silence was formed, and I suddenly realized that we had stopped walking. I could feel everyone's eyes on my neck, but I still didn't turned around to see them.

I know what I said maybe sounded way too hard, but at the same time, it was way too right to deny it.

Cartman and I shared a reciprocated hatred that had the age of time: no one knew when it began, but they were sure that it would never end. And nobody cared, not even us.

Smith cleared his throat, obviously seeking to regain our attention, and we all turned to him at once. He had a strange expression on his face: like when a person knows the end of a story, but can't tell you because it would ruin the plot.

"I'd like to talk to you alone, Kyle," he said finally, forming a small grin. However, he turned his attention to Kenny. "But as I promised: Kenneth, I owe a you a talk."

Kenny nodded quickly, and they both turned away from us, moving a few steps to ensure that we couldn't hear them. I'm not really a gossip, but the way those two were acting was so weird... I was sure they were hiding something.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I looked up quickly. Stan stared at me with a slightly worried expression. My best friend was not good with words (except special cases that used to start like this: _'You know? I learned something today...'_), and usually he said the all the wrong things in all the wrong times. So, to avoid mistakes, he preferred to use gestures to not screw it up.

I gave him a little smile, accompanied by a brief nod that told him that I was okay. I knew Stan always cared about his friends, but why did he thought I'd feel bad? I had only said the truth about the deep hatred for I felt for Cartman, what was so wrong with that?

Stan smiled a bit too, and pulled his hand away from me to hide it behind his back, beginning to sway on his feet from front to back, as he did every time he had to wait. I turned my attention fully to Kenny and the doctor, and I wasn't the only one: I could see from the corner of my eye that Butters never took his eyes away from them.

Kenny seemed surprised by what Smith was saying, but he had a relaxed smile on his face. Then he burst out laughing, exclaiming: _'I knew it!'_, and Smith gave him a huge smile. Stan and I looked at each other briefly confused, while Butters was watching them intently. Smith patted Kenny's right shoulder affectionately, and they both turned to us, especially to me. After seeing me, their smiles widened and they shared knowing glances again.

I frowned, crossing my arms. What the fuck was going on?

They approached us without removing their stupid smiles from their faces, and Kenny returned to his place between Stan and Butters, the last one looked up furtively seeking his face.

"Well, Kenneth, I hope I have clarified all your doubts...," continued smiling Smith, now taking a long breath. "At least now you know what I have to do. "

"Good luck with that," Kenny muttered in response, moving both arms on the shoulders of Stan and Butters in a friendly way. I could almost feel his eyes pausing on me for a moment before looking away. "You'll need it."

"Surely...," after saying that, Smith turned to me and I gave him the most poisonous look in the world... and it had no effect, because he was still smiling as if nothing happened. "Kyle, would you mind if we talk alone?"

_Yes, I do mind if we talk alone: I don't want to talk to you, creepy mysterious man. _

"Not at all," I lied, remembering my mother's voice saying _'you should always be polite to your elders, even if you don't want to'_. "Let's talk."

I saw Kenny (almost literally) dragging Stan and Butters back to Cartman's house, and they followed him with hesitating step. Smith turned to me, and looked at me seriously now.

"After talking alone with Eric, and with what I discussed with Liane in my office, I can say that Eric is a total sociopath," he began to speak, and I resisted the great desire I got to roll my eyes: I could smell a boring speech from miles away... because I'm usually the one who dictates them. After a pause, he continued. "But first of all, a sociopath is a persuasive and manipulative person, who lacks of remorse about the atrocities that commits. These people believe they have the right to belittle, hurt and insult others, and feel no guilt about it. In fact, they know that what they do is wrong, they just don't find that feeling of guilt that a normal person would feel. Their insults and grievances are usually empty, without any valid argument, using characteristics of the victim they see as flaws. Sociopaths need constant stimulation to avoid boredom, they need to have at least one person to give them attention all the time, arguing with them, even hating them. I'm afraid, Kyle, you're the stimulus that Eric has used throughout all his life."

I was silent for a few minutes when he had finished speaking. I had a little trouble to understand what he said. I knew what a sociopath was, I've known one since I can remember, and obviously Cartman qualified in all the features that I knew: charming outside, selfish, vain, deceitful, self-centered, and completely incapable of loving anything but his fat ass.

But the last thing the doctor said left me rather perplexed. Me? A stimulus to Cartman? I couldn't believe that asshole needed me in his life to avoid boredom... and to know that I had unconsciously been feeding that monster inside him for so many years pissed me off.

"So, Dr. Smith...," I began, speaking slowly to choose exactly which words to say. "We all know that Cartman is an insensitive son of his mother who would never do anything good for anyone, but what can I do? I mean, if you wanted to talk to me alone, it's because you surely want to ask me something," I said, and when the doctor chuckled I knew I was right. "But I can't do anything for him. I'll be honest: I DON'T want to help him. He wouldn't do it for me, why would I do it for him?"

Smith was silent a moment staring at me, as if expecting me to continue. As it I didn't, he looked confused.

"Let me understand you, Kyle. You tell me that Eric is an _insensitive son of his mother who would never do anything good for anyone,_" he repeated respectfully without trying to imitate my voice. I nodded, and he continued. "But you yourself can't do something good for him. Does he deserve your help? No, he doesn't, but you're being as selfish as him by denying it to him. You just think about getting rid of him, but you don't think about the impact he had on the lives of others. Maybe he hasn't been a major obstacle in your way, but he was in Butter's: that boy is a bundle of constant nerves, sensitive to anyone who yells at him. Do you know who is to blame? "

I frowned and opened my mouth to respond to that flood of words, which seemed to slap me like I was the bad guy; but Smith continued, implacable:

"Liane told me that Eric was responsible for the death of his father, Jack Tenorman. Eric didn't know that this man was his father, but still, he caused him to be murdered with his wife, leaving a young boy alone against the world. Only because that boy had mocked Eric. Not only that, also he made that teenager eat his parents. If Eric was responsible for the murder of his father and able to cook him, being just nine years old and without feeling guilty, can you imagine what he'll be able to do as an adult, if we don't stop him now? "

I tried to speak again, and although I wasn't interrupted, nothing came out of my lips. If this guy thought that by saying all that shit he would make me feel bad... that motherfucker was right: I felt bad. Yeah, it was true that I never took Cartman seriously: I'd have to be pretty stupid to really be hurt by his words. But though I knew Cartman had transformed Butters into his personal slave and Scott Tenorman (his half-brother) into an orphan, I never tried to get in their places...

I found it impossible to put myself in Butter's place, and it was for one simple reason: I'd NEVER let that stupid asshole have me under his shadow. But when I tried to see from Scott's perspective... I was horrified. I couldn't imagine my life without my parents, being lonely, having to raise my little brother on my own...

I gave a sigh of resignation. I couldn't deny it: Cartman was a silent beast since we were kids, and just to think what would he do as an adult, made horror in my chest increase. Would he be the cause for World War III? Would he destroy once and for all the minorities? Would he turn into the next Adolf Hitler, exterminating all traces of Judaism? Knowing Cartman as I do, I know he's capable of that and more.

There were only two options: Kill Cartman so he wouldn't conquer the world (which is a good idea, I must admit), or...

...help him.

"What do you want from me, doctor?," I asked suddenly, looking up and escaping from my terrible thoughts

Smith smiled again.

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Hello everyone!

Well, that was chapter 3. Was it good? Was it bad? You tell me! I'm writing chapter 4 right now (in Spanish), and I'll translate it to English as soon as it's ready! ;) Once again, you can give me your opinions with a review or with a PM. I'll answer you all with a PM, and if you don't have an account, I'll answer you in the next chapter.

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Special Thanks to...

... **Coolcass21**, **Ringo-Tensai**, **ActionGal07**, **JoannaKuwabara**, **Idkgirl27**, **Kyman07** and **Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle** for _Reviewing_!

... **Feniella of Suburbia**, **Pacman2013**, **Idkgirl27**, **Ringo-Tensai**, **Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle**, **RockyRockster99**, **Jena-Tomas** and **Rrooftops** for adding this story to _Favorites_!

... **Idkgirl27**, **Michi-chan2**, **Feniella of Suburbia**, **Coolcass21**, **JoannaKuwabara**, **Pacman2013**, **Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle**, **PinkXCloud**, **RockyRockster99**, **Magical Librarian** and **PosionSkittle** for _Following_ this story!

... **Feniella of Suburbia**, for her lovely _PM_!

... the _Ghost Readers_, for being there even if I can't _'see you'_!

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All reviews and PM were answered, and I'll make sure to answer every future review I get. I love to interact with you, my readers, so you can tell me what you like and what you don't. So yeah, if you want to make a suggestion for this story, or something, just tell me! ;3

Now, an answer to **Kyman07: **_I'm glad you like my story! I made an English version just to see if I could write English properly... I do my best! I'll try to fix those errors as soon as I can. Yeah, Spanish is my native language, but it's curious: this story is more 'popular' in English than in Spanish! xD Anyways, here's chappie 3, hope you liked it! And about Cartman... he didn't need to be diagnosed a sociopath, but whatever! LOL Thanks for your review!_

As always, please don't flame. I don't care what pairing you ship, just **DON'T** flame. Thank you.

That's all for now. Hope you liked this chapter.

_Read_ you soon!

_-*-_-*-_KovatePrivalski97._-*-_-*-_


	4. Guilty Notebook

**Warning:** _This fanfic contains mostly the Kyman pairing (Best Pairing Ever in the Whole Wide World *w*). If you don't like this pairing, or you are homophobic, or you ship other pairing... -coughcoughStyle/Candy/AnyOthercoughcough-and you cannot stand this one... please, stop reading now. I don't care the classic review: "ooohh, kyman, yuck, no sense, blah, blah, stupidity, blah", right? Thank you very much. ;) _

_Cover by TheButterfly7 _

_Fanfic dedicated to _**Ringo-Tensai**._ Because I'm so mean I turned Kyman into one of her OTPs mwahahahahaha xD Oh, and because she's the best friend, reader and future writer of the Galaxy ;3_

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**ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS FANFIC-EVEN THOSE BASED ON REAL PEOPLE-ARE ENTIRELY FICTIONAL AND BELONG TO TREY PARKER AND MATT STONE. ALL THE CHARACTERS RETAIN THEIR ORIGINAL PERSONALITY... POORLY. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE, SHONEN-AI/YAOI/SLASH, POSSIBLE OUT OF CHARACTER, ETC., AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT, IT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE.**

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4

Guilty Notebook

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"I'm glad you asked," Smith sighed, his smile wouldn't bend for anything. "Because that means you want to help your friend..."

"I didn't say I'd help him," I clarified, arching my eyebrows and crossing my arms even tighter "And he's not my friend. "

Smith continued to smile foolishly, but I could see that his eyes darkened a little, or maybe it was just my impression. He sighed again, this time heavily, and I knew that his patience had a limit.

"Listen, Kyle, I don't want you to help Eric because he's your friend," he said, gesturing that idea away with his hand as it was a mosquito. "I want you to help him for his mother, who is partially to blame but deserves a better son. For your friends who also deserve some respect. And for you, because though you don't take him seriously, I doubt that hearing insults about your religion is to your liking, right?

I frowned, and I swallowed my pride. No, it was not pleasant to wake up every morning knowing what would happen. Arriving at the bus stop: _'Good morning, fucking Jew! Did you take that sand out of your vagina?'_. On the bus:_ 'Shut the fuck up, damn Jew'_. In High School: _'Go to fucking hell and die, fagot-ass Jew, I hope you choke on your know-it-all words, cheap and ugly bitch!'_ Only a masochist would like to hear that, and I didn't think I was one of those,_ but who knows?_.*** **

"Will you help him?"

Smith's voice brought me out of my thoughts, and raised my head a little confused. He looked at me expectantly, his smile was still there, but it was almost imperceptible. I inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to clear my thoughts a bit.

"First tell me what _would_ I have to do if I accepted," I reminded him, tilting my head slightly to the left. "Then... I'll consider it."

"All right, Kyle. We'll do it your way," he granted, with a brief nod. I kept silence, that way maybe I could understand what he said without getting confused or looking like a fool. "Lately I have received several visits from concerned families about their children, many more than normal. The cases range from the most complex, as sociopathy and depression, to the simplest, which are simply bad attitudes from young people without any pathology involved. Well, in both cases, a new therapy is yielding good results around the world: the Guilty Notebook.

"Guilty Notebook?," I asked, biting my tongue for interrupting. Well, that was the first time I heard about that, so...

"That's right," he nodded again, apparently without bothering with my interruption. Then he took a deep breath, and I knew that was coming quite a long explanation. "The therapy consists of the following: the patient, now referred to as _'Guilty',_ writes in a notebook provided by his doctor the names of all those people that he has hurt in his life. Guilty must be totally honest, and also write what kind of damage he caused to each person. When he has completed his list, he must give that notebook to the person which the patient has little or no affection at all, and therefore has been affected more than others. This person, who receives the notebook, will be referred to as _'Redeemer'_. Redeemer must read the entire notebook without judging Guilty, and then commit to help Guilty to rectify his mistakes. What do I mean? Well, Guilty should apologize to all those who were affected. Sincere apologies, by the way. Redeemer must get Guilty to feel, obviously, guilty. If Guilty gets their forgiveness, it's considered a step closer to healing. If Guilty fails, he should try by all ways, without advancing to the next affected person until he gets forgiveness."

I waited in silence until Smith continued, but he didn't. Only then I allowed myself to analyze everything carefully. Honestly, I had never heard of such therapy, but I'm not a psychiatrist so my opinion isn't very valuable. However, I knew exactly what role Smith expected me to take... and I didn't know what to do. Being Cartman's Redeemer... commit with him to change...

First of all, I was sure that Cartman would never change. I had very bad experiences trusting him when he pretended to do something good (such as saving my life, only for me to suck his balls which I obviously didn't), when he swore that he had changed for the better, ensuring that he wanted to defend something (such as free speech, but he only wanted to get Family Guy canceled)... always, it was a lie. Cartman never did anything good if that didn't bring him a personal benefit.

"How would Redeemer bring Guilty to feel embarrassed by his actions?" I questioned, now tilting my head to the right curiously

"He can use any way. Except violence," he added quickly, apparently noticing the small glimmer of hope that had appeared in my eyes. "Redeemer can talk to Guilty, try to reason with him, and may even make him feel like the person he hurt felt... except in some cases, obviously you can't kill Liane Cartman and cook her for Eric."

I smiled smugly when he said the word _'you'_. It was so obvious what role I should play in this story, and yet so confusing and complicated. The idea of forcing Cartman to apologize to everyone he has hurt (in a list that goes from South Park to Russia and came back here), was quite tempting. He would even have to apologize to me... yeah, that sounded like heaven.

"If I... accept to help him...," I muttered that words as if they were poison "... how long would take this treatment?"

"That is indeterminate," he replied simply, shrugging his shoulders briefly. "That depends on how fast Guilty progresses in apologies with Redeemer's help."

His smile widened at my incredulous look. Knowing Cartman, his "recovery" would take an eternity, and maybe a little more. Deep breath: the fucking time to take a decision had come.

Among the pros of this situation there was the fact that I could force Cartman to apologize to half the world, and I could also use any non-violent means to make him feel guilty, which made my imagination travel to really grim places, as I'm very good at being _peaceful_.

Among the cons, I would have to share valuable time of my life with that fatass, just for his own benefit: if he recovered, it would be just for his sake, not mine... Wait! What the fuck was that? I'm not like that! I don't always get interested in my personal benefit of every situation... right?

_'Do the right thing, no matter what.' _

Whoever said that damn phrase, obviously didn't know about Cartman.

"I'll do it."

That words came out of my mouth without me even noticing. Apparently my brain had taken over, and my logical side had decided that the fact that Cartman would humiliate himself with apologies was enough to face the fact that I'd have to spend more time with him. And again, my logical side was right.

"I'm very glad to hear that, Kyle," said Smith, patting my back friendly and starting to walk back to Cartman's. "You know? Maybe now you think this is a bad thing, or you feel uncomfortable, but I assure you that one day you'll understand the true significance of all this."

"Yeah, right," the skepticism in my voice was evident as I began to walk again. I didn't care to sound rude, I just wanted to start this fast. "And what do we do now?"

"First I'll tell Eric you agreed to be part of his treatment..."

"He already knew about this?"

"Sure. I explained it to him while we talked, and he said he'd think about it."

Holy crap! That bastard would ruin everything. He surely wouldn't accept, and I would stay with the desire to hear him say "I'm sorry" a million times. Shit, shit, shit!

We got in the house in just a few minutes, and Smith gallantly opened the door to let me pass. There were Stan and Kenny sitting on the couch, but there was no trace of Butters anywhere. Then appeared Liane, who came to us as the doctor slowly closed the door.

"Kyle will do it," Smith said, and I couldn't help but frown a little frown: did everyone know about the fucking treatment but me?

"Oh, really?!," exclaimed Liane, smiling happily. Without waiting for an answer, she threw her arms around my neck. Although I staggered, I kept in balance so we both didn't fall to the ground. "Thank you, Kyle! You're a good boy! Thank you so much...!"

"Ehm... no problem, Mrs. Cartman," I replied, uncomfortable and unsure of what to do at that moment (should I hug her back? What the hell you do when your enemy's mother throws herself into your arms?!). I looked over her and I saw Kenny with a crooked smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Stan looked at me with a questioning expression.

"Please, call me Liane," she asked smiling, turning away from me just a little, enough for me to notice that we both shared the same stature. "Now you'll spend so much time with Eric, you'll be like part of our family, honey!"

I couldn't hide the horror that caused me the last thing she said. I could hear a muffled laughter from Kenny, and Stan muttering _'What the fuck..?'_ But my brain worked slowly, and the thought that I could be like part of Cartman's family made me queasy. I could almost visualize myself in front of the TV, eating greasy Kentucky fried chicken, my face all stained with sauce and yelling at my brother...

_'No Ike, this is my chicken...! NO Ike, that's a bad Ike, fuck no, this is my chicken! MOM, IKE'S BEING A DILDO!'_

I shook my head quickly, trying to take those apocalyptic thoughts off my mind. I focused on Liane and managed to form a nervous smile.

"Okay... Liane," I replied quietly, nodding a little just to reinforce my words

She gave me an even bigger smile, she was obviously very pleased that I would help her son... I felt like an asshole for accepting to help Cartman just to see him humble when she was sincerely worried about her son. Then I remembered all the shit I went through because of her _innocent_ son, and I felt like a fool for having felt like an asshole. Yeah, even I got confused with that.

Liane took a few steps away from me, and gave Smith a hug. He returned the hug warmly, and I could even see an almost invisible blush on his cheeks. Their embrace lasted a few minutes, and it seemed like they weren't going to separate until Liane took a few steps away from him, hiding a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear, and I could see that she was completely blushed.

I must admit: it's weird to see a woman that is about 40 years old blushing like a lovesick high-school girl. Yuck. And please, don't misunderstand me: I'm not one of those idiots who always say _'I hate love'_, _'love doesn't exist'_ or _'I'll never fall in love.'_ I didn't care about love at all (I've never fell in love, and I'm not a depressive-suicidal poser because of that). And sometimes love was disgusting (like when Stan and Wendy started to make out in front of me, making nasty sounds that I really don't want to remember. Infinite Yuck).

"I've got an idea," said Liane, and I jumped a little, still trying to erase from my mind the image of my best friend and his girlfriend swapping spit in front of me. I looked at her, still disoriented. "Kyle, why don't you go to Eric's room and tell him that you'll help him? He'll be so happy!"

This time, Kenny had a lot of trouble to hide his laugh and Stan continued his exorbitant look that said: _'I don't understand a flying shit'_. I smiled, totally pleased. Cartman's expression when I told him that I was going to _help him_ would be priceless. By seeing the enthusiasm that his mother was putting on this, I was pretty sure that he would accept to start treatment only to make her happy.

"Sure, Liane," I nodded, highlighting her name with a brief gentlemanly bow. She giggled, and again reminded me a high-schoolgirl. "I'll be right back."

With my huge smile gracing my face, climbed upstairs two steps at a time, trying not to start laughing. This Monday had started as a disgusting shit and had become an amazing day.

I reached his bedroom's door, which was briefly open, and I could hear Butters' voice saying something. I'll repeat it: I'm not a gossip, but... Is it wrong to listen to an unimportant conversation? I don't think so.

"S-Seriously, Eric, your m-mom is really excited w-with this," insisted Butters, and I even could imagine him wringing his hands nervously. I heard Cartman snorting heavily. "Will y-you do it?"

"I don't know, Butters, I already told you," Cartman muttered, I could almost see in my mind his scowl and angry glare. "Accepting would be like giving myself in the hands of the Jew... I mean, that son of a Jewish bitch would force me to do things that I can't even imagine..."

Ignoring all the insults I heard, I had to bite my lip hard not to throw a laugh. The way Cartman spoke, would suggest to anyone who didn't know us I was a heartless bastard who used to torture him. And actually, everything was the other way around.

"B-But your m-mom..."

"I know! Just leave me alone, retard!"

I turned away from the door just in the moment Butters fled running away, downstairs at an astounding rate. I looked at the stairs for a moment, but then I turned to the door. It was opened and I could see that Cartman was resting his forehead against the cold glass of the window, eyes closed. If I didn't knew it was impossible, I'd say he was thinking.

I hit the wooden door with my knuckles. Cartman opened his eyes but didn't move from where he was.

"What the fuck do you want, Jew?," he snapped without even deigning to look at me. His eyes were lost in the town outside his huge window.

"Can I come in, fatass?," I asked jokingly. I loved seeing Cartman so down. He grunted as only answer, and I chuckled. "Anyways, I can tell you from here: I agreed to _help you_ with your treatment."

I could see surprise appearing in his hazel eyes even when he tried to hide it. He turned slowly with his red jacket unbuttoned and leaned his back against his window slightly (otherwise he'd break it) and raised his eyebrows, his arms crossed.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yep. And before you start bitching again, I'll tell you something else: when your mom found out, she was very happy. She also hugged me to thank me. She even asked me to call her Liane. Cool, isn't it? It's a shame you're going to disappoint her... since it's obvious that you can't help being the shit you are."

Silence. Cartman didn't take his narrowed eyes from mine, and I knew he was planning in his mind a thousand and one ways to kill me slowly and painfully.

"First: you're an asshole. Second: you're a Jew, which makes you doubly asshole and doubly Jewish," he blurted after a moment, regaining his smirk and I rolled my eyes at those grievances. "And three, what the hell makes you think I can't change? I can do it. I can do anything."

"Yeah, sure...," I muttered, with an equivalent smirk on my face "... anything but lose weight."

"Shut up! I'm not fat anymore!"

"Of course not..."

"You know what? I don't give a shit about what you think. So fuck you, and leave me alone."

He turned his back again, and I knew he wasn't going to look at me. Without deleting my smile, I turned around too. I was going to get this asshole to accept his treatment, no matter what. No matter I had to act like an asshole myself to get it done. That's why I started walking, talking in an extremely dramatic voice:

"Okay, fatass. I'll go downstairs and tell _Liane_ that you won't do anything to change. Sure she'll be disappointed, but what did she expect anyways? Having a son like you..."

I could only take a few more steps, until I felt my body was pushed to aside, out of the way. Passing me by, Cartman ran downstairs, and stopped right in front of his mother and Smith. Breathless, he signed his own statement:

"I'll do it."

It was only a second, but I could see several things: Liane jumping into her son's arms with tears in her eyes, Smith and Kenny with identical smiles of satisfaction, Stan with his expression of complete confusion and Butters giggling to the scene.

I could only smile victoriously. I had managed to get Cartman in my hands by himself. Bingo.

"Eric, I'm so happy!," Liane exclaimed, still holding her son tightly. He barely hugged her back, clearly uncomfortable. "I love you so much, honey."

"Yeah, whatever...,"he muttered, pushing his mother a bit away from himself. Then, almost inaudibly he added: "Me too."

And seeing them there, mother and son together and embraced, made me feel like an asshole again.

I had agreed to help Cartman just for the satisfaction of seeing him humilliated in front of everyone. I had accepted only for my own benefit... without thinking that his mother really believed he would change. Not only that: she really believed that I would help him to change.

_'...you are being as selfish as him...' _

Smith's words rang in my ears like a distant echo, and though I tried to think of all the times that Cartman had been an asshole to me (always), I couldn't help but feel like the worst person in the world.

Oh, shit...

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Hey everyone!

Here's chapter 4. That's this story main plot... but there will be a lot of twists that will distract you all from the REAL plot... I'll shut up now! No more spoilers! xD

*** That sentence was a reference to a Kyman fic that I love, and that you all must have read: Kyle in Chains, by DanniDinmont . If you haven't read this fic, you should do it NOW! But only if you are old enough to read lemon, it's REALLY explicit.**

* * *

Special Thanks to...

... **ActionGal07, MarcielleTehKat, Idkgirl27, LustForTheLetters, JoannaKuwabara **and** Ringo-Tensai** for _Reviewing!_

... **Feniella of Suburbia, Pacman2013, Idkgirl27, Ringo-Tensai, Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle, RockyRockster99, Jena-Tomas, Rrooftops, Ladybugs, MarcielleTehKat** and **LustForTheLetters** for adding this story to _Favorites!_

... **Idkgirl27, Michi-chan2, Feniella of Suburbia, Coolcass21, JoannaKuwabara, Pacman2013, Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle, PinkXCloud, RockyRockster99, Magical Librarian, PosionSkittle, CandiePie, Gingersnaps13, MarcielleTehKat** and **LustForTheLetters** for _Following_ this story!

... the _Ghost Readers_, at least for _reading_!

* * *

All reviews will be answered with a PM as soon as I fix my laptop: for some reason, I can't send PM's! :(

Now, an answer to **MacielleTehKat**: _Hey! I tried to send you a PM, but I couldn't :'( So here's your answer. Thank you for the compliments! ;3 I'm really happy my story got you glued to your computer, I feel great knowing so! Here's the update, I hope you liked it! ;)_

Oh! If you're looking for a really good South Park fic to read, I recommend you _**All Shall Know Who and What I Truly Am**_, by **SareBear96**. It's simply amazing, I love it! So go and read it NOW! You won't regret it! ;3

As Cartman would say: _flaming is for dildos_! So don't flame, 'cause when you do you're being a dildo. Enough said xD

Hope you liked this chapter. I'll try to finish writing chapter 5 very soon! Let me know what you think, by reviews or PM's.

_Read_ you soon.

_-*-_-*-_KovatePrivalski97._-*-_-*-_


	5. Fuck Everyone!

**Warning:** _This fanfic contains mostly the Kyman pairing (Best Pairing Ever in the Whole Wide World *w*). If you don't like this pairing, or you are homophobic, or you ship other pairing... -coughcoughStyle/Candy/AnyOthercoughcough-and you cannot stand this one... please, stop reading now. I don't care the classic review: "ooohh, kyman, yuck, no sense, blah, blah, stupidity, blah", right? Thank you very much. ;) _

_Cover by TheButterfly7 _

_Fanfic dedicated to _**Ringo-Tensai**._ Because I'm so mean I turned Kyman into one of her OTPs mwahahahahaha xD Oh, and because she's the best friend, reader and future writer of the Galaxy ;3_

* * *

**ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS FANFIC-EVEN THOSE BASED ON REAL PEOPLE-ARE ENTIRELY FICTIONAL AND BELONG TO TREY PARKER AND MATT STONE. ALL THE CHARACTERS RETAIN THEIR ORIGINAL PERSONALITY... POORLY. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE, SHONEN-AI/YAOI/SLASH, POSSIBLE OUT OF CHARACTER, ETC., AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT, IT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE.**

* * *

5

Fuck Everyone!

* * *

I was surprised how fast it was dark. It was a starry night, the moon in its waning crescent was proudly watching us from the sky above. Stan and I were on our way to our respective homes, after a long Monday. I told my best friend all that I had talked with Dr. Smith, and my reasons to help Cartman.

Stan's expression was unreadable.

"So you accepted to help him for your own benefit," he summarized in a low voice as we turned a corner. I nodded, though he wasn't looking at me. He remained silent for a little more. "Well... That sounds like something Cartman would do. The problem is that you're Kyle, I don't know if you remember that..."

"I know," I murmured, snorting softly. I hated it when Stan compared me with Cartman, though he rarely was right. "I told you that I regret it, okay? That's it."

"No, Kyle, it's not like that," refuted Stan, shaking his head quickly. I looked at him, and his expression had not changed yet. "Now YOU must help him. You agreed to do so. There's no turning back."

I returned to snort, this time louder and heavily. He was right. Thinking I was getting Cartman in a dilemma, I got myself into a mess of epic proportions. 'Cause now Liane thought her son would change for the better. 'Cause now I must spend time with Cartman, and help him to improve. And Stan couldn't think of anything better to remind me something I already knew.

Fuck you, Stan.

"What are you gonna do?," my best friend suddenly asked, walking a little slower when he saw his house across the street. I looked at him questioningly, and he continued. "You know, now you must help him. Will you really help him? Or will you just pretend?"

Both of us stopped in the dim light of a lamp post. I looked into my friend's eyes, and now he looked worried. If I could read his mind, I would have said that he was remembering all the times Cartman had used my trust as toilet paper. I bit my lower lip slightly, looking away.

"I... I'm not like Cartman," I assured him, crossing my arms and setting my sight nowhere. "He would pretend, but I'll help him. I will indeed. I think that helping that asshole is the worst punishment he can receive."

"Be careful," Stan warned me, resting his hand on my right shoulder briefly. He sighed. "You know that trusting Cartman is never a good idea."

I nodded quickly, wincing. Stan smiled a little, and went on his way to his home. I accompanied him closely, across the street. We stopped outside his door, and he checked the pockets of his jeans looking for his keys.

When he found them, he opened the door and looked at me smiling:

"You wanna to stay for dinner?"

"You know I can't," I muttered, shrugging my shoulders in resignation. Sharon cooked delicious meals, and although I'd never admit it aloud, she did it even better than my mom. "My mother wants me at home right now, in fact, I'm coming late."

"All right," Stan sighed, entering his house and dedicating me another of his huge farewell smiles. "Take care, dude. See you tomorrow."

I nodded with a small smile, and he closed the door. I stood there a moment, and then started on my way home at a slow pace. It was not far, just one block away, but I deliberately took my time.

I didn't want to get home.

Why? Because lately my parents didn't stop arguing. They argued about everything: because my father forgot to lower the toilet seat, or because my mother "haunted" my father calling him all the time. They argued all the time since they woke up, until they slept, and surely they also argued in their dreams.

And they argued in front of Ike, which really pissed me off.

Thinking about my little brother made me pick up the pace, much to my regret. He was alone now, probably listening to my parents arguing because a fly flew over their heads. And I couldn't just leave him there all alone.

I arrived at the door of my house, and I could already hear the deafening screams of my mother. I didn't struggle to understand what she said, I just opened the door and entered. And there they were again.

The scenario was the same every fucking day of my life, since at least two months ago: my mother shouting sermons, my father answering quietly with a passive attitude, and Ike in a corner of our living room watching everything, holding his tears. Shit.

"... a thousand times, don't go to that bar! But then, you never listen to me!"

"Sheila, we talked about this. I rarely go to the bar..."

"And you should never go! You know why, Gerald?! Because you're a married man and a father too! You should be with us...!"

"Going to a bar doesn't make me a bad father. Not a bad husband neither. I just want some fun and..."

"And find another woman?! Huh!? You're a damn irresponsible, you're a...!"

I didn't want to hear anymore, so I just stopped doing so. I dodged my parents casually and I walked over to my brother, who was standing in the kitchen doorway staring at my parents.

I stood in front of him, hindering the direction of his gaze. Seeing me, he raised his brown eyes to me. The tears in them were almost impossible to contain. From my part, I gave him a little smile, and pulled him to me in a hug. Again.

Without letting him go, I headed to my room. I could hear the echo of my mother's scream, and my brother's repressed sobs against my chest as he trudged beside me. We went to my room, and as I turned on the light, Ike turned away from me and threw on my comfy bed. I watched him get under the covers and keep crying, hidden.

I sighed. I took off my orange jacket and threw it to the ground, and did the same with my green ushanka, making my red curls falling messily over my face. I went to my bed and I put myself under the covers too, pulling out my cell phone from my jeans' pocket, lighting a lantern my cell phone had incorporated. There, I could see my brother hiding his face in his hands, shaking.

I could only hold him against my chest, as always. I didn't know what to say, so I would rather keep quiet. Also, if I lied to him, he'd notice right away.

"D-do you t-think they'll d-divorce?" he sobbed quietly, returning the hug immediately

"I don't know," I muttered over his head, fiddling with his black hair. That relaxed him since he was younger.

"Can I s-sleep here w-with you tonight, Kyle?"

"Sure."

I sighed again, this time it was a long and tired sigh. Ike slept with me since a month and a half ago. He sleeps, and with luck I close my eyes for more than thirty minutes at a time. It's because my younger brother is terribly disturbed when sleeping, so I get kicked, punched and even insulted while he sleeps. Anyways, I would never kick Ike out of my room for anything. In my room, my parents threads barely could be heard for some miraculous reason.

Fuck you, Mom and Dad.

* * *

Tuesday morning greeted me with a sky overcast with clouds and the promise of rain decently called flood. Fantastic.

I was on my way to the bus stop, after I left my house in a hurry. My alarm clock had failed me, and I barely had time to prepare breakfast for Ike before my mother appeared in the kitchen. I went away quickly to avoid having to talk to her, and I'd have liked to take my brother with me, but I had to leave him there with her.

I saw Stan quietly waiting for the bus, and Kenny approaching him in the opposite direction. Seeing me, a huge smile formed on his face and he shook his head to get his blond hair off his face.

"What's up, Stan?," he greeted happily as I stopped by their side. My best friend just nodded silently: he was always cranky at mornings. "How are you, Kyle?"

"I'm fine, and you?" I lied poorly, forming a weak fake smile on my face

"I'm fine, all right," he replied, passing one arm around my shoulders quietly. He walked me a few steps away from Stan, and he didn't seem to notice. "I got the news you're gonna help Cartman..."

I furrowed my brow a bit, and I turned away from him to face him. He was still smiling.

"Well, yeah," I muttered, looking away from his face quickly. He chuckled. "But I accepted by stupidity, and now I can't retract. I'm not doing it because I care about him, okay?"

"Relax, Kyle," he laughed aloud now, raising his hands in the air as a sign of redemption. "Sounds good to me. Really. I hope you really help him... I mean, don't pretend. As you said, now you can't retract."

"Yeah, I'll really help him," I continued muttering, crossing my arms. After a little more I furrowed brow due to a question I just popped in my mind. "Anyways, why do you care so much, you and Stan? Cartman isn't very good friends with any of you..."

"Oh, let's just say that it's very important to make Cartman change" Kenny said, and I was surprised at the harshness and seriousness that took place in his face at that moment. Seeing my puzzled face, he lowered his voice a little more leaning toward me. "Believe me, it's too important. Of life or death, without exaggeration. Someday you'll understand."

He walked away from me just as the bus stopped at our stop. I got on the vehicle like a robot, unable to take out of my head the words Kenny said. Too important? LIFE OR DEATH? I didn't know Kenny could be so exaggerated. I knew that if Cartman changed, the world probably would get rid of a born dictator. But for that to happen many years had to pass by, and life paths are never what you expect. Kenny only confused me.

Fuck you, Kenny.

I was so distracted with my thoughts, looking without really looking out the window of the bus, I didn't hear the insistent voice of a girl, that after a few minutes I caught:

"Kyle... Hey, Kyle! Kyle, are you there?! KYLE, DAMNIT, LISTEN TO ME, ASSHOLE!"

I was startled when Wendy started screaming in my ears. I looked at her still disoriented and saw her hugging Stan (who was next to me), sitting on his lap. Her anger was gone, and now she was smiling kindly. That's Wendy for you: if you didn't pay attention to her, you had you take the consequences.

"Hello, Wendy," I replied softly, still somewhat stunned by her previous cries

"Hi!" she giggled, squeezing even more to my best friend, who just had his eyes looking nowhere, still in a bad mood. "Hey, a little bird told me... that you'll help Cartman with some therapy, or something..."

A little bird, huh? A fucking little bird called Stan? He could never hide anything from Wendy! And although sooner or later she would find out (like everyone else), I was in no mood to deal with her. I gave a killer glare at Stan, and I could see him looking at me from the corner of the eye. He swallowed loudly.

"Yeah... Well, I'll do what I can, you know...," I whispered softly, returning to divert my gaze to the window with disinterest

"Sounds good" said Wendy, and I was sure she nodded although I wasn't looking at her. "Especially since it's about time that someone put Cartman in his place. I mean, you always do, but this time it will be permanent. I hope he'll also work with you in that therapy, people don't change unless they want to, you know? I think maybe..."

I knew she was going to keep talking until we reached our High School, so I just stopped listening. When she began to speak, it was almost impossible to stop her, and I didn't want to hear her morally right speeches at that moment. I don't even know how it is that Stan stands her, and has endured for so many years... and now I had a headache caused by her uninterrupted monologue.

Fuck you, Wendy.

I rapidly got off the bus, only to escape from my best friend's girlfriend. I found my locker quickly, and walked briskly to it. I was putting some Algebra books in my backpack when I heard footsteps stopping beside me.

I closed my locker, and I met Butters Stotch's shy face. He was with his head down, he rubbed his knuckles nervously, as he usually did. I was going to turn away and go (I was late for Literature), when he decided to speak:

"Hi, K-Kyle."

"Hello, Butters. I have no time, so what do you want?" I asked hastily, sounding rude and without giving a shit about it

"W-Well, I just wanted to tell you that i-it's great that you'll help E-Eric," he stammered, looking into my eyes. I nodded without putting importance: I really had to go. Butters pulled his bag, opened it and took something from it. "E-Eric asked me to give you this... a-and he t-told me to tell you t-this: _'You b-better not t-tell your hippie little b-boyfriend about w-what you'll read, fucking Jew!'_.

He extended his hand to me, offering me a red notebook. I knew what it was. My hands trembled a little as I took it, and I could read what its cover said: **Guilty Notebook**. In the back of the book, with a disastrous handwriting that was very familiar for me: _Eric T. __Cartman_.

"Oh, well..." I blurted, sighing deeply. I looked up at Butters, and he looked at me expectantly. I cleared my throat. "Tell the fatass that he's a coward for not giving it to me himself. And that I'll read it alone. No one else will."

I turned around and started to walk away, clutching that notebook to my chest, which seemed to burn through my coat. After a second, I stopped and turned around slightly. Butters was still there.

"And also tell him that I'll help him. I'll really do it, though he doesn't deserve it. So he'd better do his part, or things will get ugly for him."

Butters nodded quickly, turning around and almost ran away from me. I resumed my way to class, feeling dizzy. My mind was a jumble of ideas, voices, images. All at breakneck speed.

Stan being right, my parents arguing, my brother crying, Kenny overreacting, Wendy screaming, Butters running away from me like I was monster... Cartman not even daring to threaten me in person.

Fuck everyone!

And, in fact, fuck my life.

* * *

Hey there everyone!

There you go, chapter 5. Did you like it? I hope so. It was especially to show Kyle's reality... in most of the Kyman fics I've read, Sheila always beats Kyle up... so I didn't want this fic to be the same! :P

* * *

Special Thanks to...

... **ActionGal07, Idkgirl27, LustForTheLetters, Mistress of Craziness, Ringo-Tensai **and** Furjoshi** for _Reviewing!_

... **Feniella of Suburbia, Pacman2013, Idkgirl27, Ringo-Tensai, Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle, RockyRockster99, Jena-Tomas, Rrooftops, Ladybugs, MarcielleTehKat,** **LustForLetters,** **Mistress of Craziness, Furjoshi **and** Mariseby** for adding this story to _Favorites!_

... **Idkgirl27, Michi-chan2, Feniella of Suburbia, Coolcass21, JoannaKuwabara, Pacman2013, Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle, PinkXCloud, RockyRockster99, Magical Librarian, PosionSkittle, CandiePie, Gingersnaps13, MarcielleTehKat,** **LustForLetters,** **Mistress of Craziness, Timid Offerings, Furjoshi** and **Mariseby** for _Following_ this story!

... the _Ghost Readers_, at least for _reading_!

* * *

An answer to **Mistress of Craziness**: _I couldn't send you a PM, so I'll answer to you now. Thanks for all your compliments, even if I don't deserve them! I really dislike those fics where Kyle and Cartman make out and say 'I love you' in the first five chapters... those fics don't make sense to me. Yeah, I do my best trying to translate the right way... but sometimes I make mistakes. Sorry about that! And... yep, there are seriously people who think Kyman doesn't make sense. In fact, I received a flame about that. I don't think Style doesn't make sense... but I just don't like it :( So here's the update, I hope you liked it! Thanks for everything!_

Now, if you excuse me, I have some truths to say to a certain someone...

* * *

**GUYS! STYLEFREAKQUEEN IS BEING A DILDO!**

(my _not-so-polite_ answer to a _really stupid_ flame)

So yeah, I just got my first flame, YAY!... no, not really. It's not funny. Not at all. I honestly don't see the point on flaming. I mean, why do people flame? I'll never understand that.

Anyways, I got a flame from a Style fangirl, surprisingly called **StyleFreakQueen**. I'll analyze her _lovely_ flame for you all, so I can answer to it _politely:_

_'Do you seriously think Kyman makes sense? 'Cause it doesn't! Kyle and Cartman are enemies, they HATE each other... they could never be canon! Also, Kyle would never be interested in Cartman because he's fat! :P Just quite writing Kyman fanfics, you're wasting your time like all the other Kyman shippers.'_

Yeah, my dear flamer, Kyle and Cartman hate each other and indeed, they're enemies. BUT that doesn't mean Kyman is a total non-sense. They could totally be canon, because their sexual tension is just undeniable. You're judging Cartman for being fat? Okay, I'll leave that for later.

'_You should ship Style, which REALLY MAKES SENSE and is TOTALLY CANON.' _

First of all: I'll NEVER ship Style. Second of all: since when the fuck is Style canon? 'Cause I must have missed that episode.

_'Here's why:_

_1. Stan and Kyle are SUPER-BEST FRIENDS, so they have a really deep connection._

_2. Stan and Kyle have said 'I love you' to each other plenty of times._

_3. Style is the most popular ship in the South Park fandom... what do you think about that?_

_4. It's pretty obvious that Trey and Matt are gay for each other... and so are Stan and Kyle! (they are inspired in Trey and Matt, in case you didn't know)_

_5. KYMAN IS JUST DISGUSTING! Can you imagine Kyle and Cartman having sex?! Cartman would totally crush Kyle with his weight! xD Let's just face it: overweight characters DON'T DESERVE LOVE. They just don't deserve it. 'Cause they're horrible. That's a fact._

_6. STYLE is a lot better than KYMAN. Stan is cute and cares about Kyle... while Cartman is ugly and doesn't give a crap about Kyle. See my point?'_

Here's my reply to your _brilliant_ reasons, darling:

1. Now, you're totally right: Stan & Kyle are BBF, and they have a deep connection (that's a gay way to say it lol). Stan & Kyle are like brothers... do you know how it's called when two brothers kiss each other and stuff? It's called INCEST, and it's disgusting at least to me. If Stan and Kyle were together, for me it would be like Fred and George Weasley being together... And I say this with all due respect to Style and Twincest shippers.

2. I know, right? They're like brothers, so since when brothers don't say each other 'I love you'? It's completely normal. By the way, you should watch _'Le Petit Tourette'_, where Cartman (unable to control what he says) tells Kyle: _'I love you, man!'_ Oh, and also watch _'It's a Jersey Thing'_, where Cartman refers to Kyle as _'his little monster'_. And watch _'Cartman Finds Love'_ too, where Cartman openly declares his love for Kyle, and I think he was totally serious (he could have said to Nichole that Kyle was gay for any other guy, or just say that Kyle had a girlfriend, but he chose to say they were a gay couple... Now do you see my damn point?)

3. Indeed, Style is the most popular ship... that's why it's everywhere with overused plots, and that's also why I'm sick of it. I DON'T hate Style, which means I'm not a HATER, which means I don't FLAME. I'm just pretty sick of Style. It's all lovey-dovey, with '_I'll love you forever, and ever, and always, Kyle'_ and _'Oh, Stan, you're so cute and adorable... LET'S HAVE SEX NOW!'_ Yeah, right? And all of this happens in the first ten chapters... only one word: BORING!

4. Now you're messing with Trey Parker and Matt Stone, and they're real persons in case you didn't know. Who are you to say that _it's pretty obvious_ they are gay for each other? And if they were, what does that have to do with Style? I mean, yeah, Stan is inspired in Trey and Kyle is inspired in Matt, but that doesn't mean anything. THAT is non-sense.

5. Yeah, of course I can imagine Kyle and Cartman having sex! And if I can't, I'll just go and read **Kyle in Chains** one more time. Here you go again: mistreating Cartman just for being fat. Why the fuck overweight characters don't deserve love? They totally deserve it! They're not horrible, but YOU _MUST BE_ A HORRIBLE PERSON IF YOU REALLY THINK THAT WAY! And that's a fact, baby.

6. I agree with you: Stan is cute and cares about Kyle... BECAUSE THEY'RE FUCKING BEST FRIENDS, YOU JUST SAID IT! Now... I should kill you just for saying Cartman is 'ugly'. Cartman is one of the CUTEST characters EVER. Why? Because of his chubbiness! Oh, and also: Cartman isn't fat, _HE'S JUST BIG-BONED, BITCH! _One more thing: Cartman cares about Kyle, but his sociopath condition stops him from showing it.

_'That's all I have to say. Oh, and you're a total bitch, just for shipping Kyman. Also you're a retard, for the same reason._

_Fuck Kyman. Fuck Kyman Shippers. Fuck this stupid fic. And fuck you too! ;)'_

Aren't you lovely? Well no, you aren't. You _must be_ a BITCH just for flaming in my story. You _must be_ also a RETARD, for reading my fic and wasting time from your precious life in something you despise. If you don't like it, WHY DID YOU READ IT? I'll never understand that neither.

As my beloved Kyley-B would say:

_'FUCK YOU, PSYCHO BITCH! WANNA SEE FUCKIN' CRAZY?! YOU'RE MUFF GARBAGE, THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE!'_

Thanks for reviewing, sweetie! :3

* * *

I must say that all insults and whatever in the answer are especially directed to this flamer. She offended me, so I just stood my ground. My sincere respect to any other Style shipper reading this. I totally respect your preferences, but I also expect people to respect mine. Thank You.

Once and for all: IF YOU CAN'T STAND KYMAN, THEN DON'T FUCKING READ. It's that simple. Don't waste your time in something you don't like. I don't go around reading Style fics and flaming them. I just let them be. Everyone has an opinion. Let's just respect each other. That's all I want.

Leaving that behind, I'll try to finish chapter 6 very soon. Hope you all liked this chapter.

_Read_ you soon!

_-*-_-*-_KovatePrivalski97._-*-_-*-_


	6. Mommy's Dictator

**Warning:** _This fanfic contains mostly the Kyman pairing (Best Pairing Ever in the Whole Wide World *w*). If you don't like this pairing, or you are homophobic, or you ship other pairing... -coughcoughStyle/Candy/AnyOthercoughcough-and you cannot stand this one... please, stop reading now. I don't care the classic review: "ooohh, kyman, yuck, no sense, blah, blah, stupidity, blah", right? Thank you very much. ;) _

_Cover by TheButterfly7 _

_Fanfic dedicated to _**Ringo-Tensai**._ Because I'm so mean I turned Kyman into one of her OTPs mwahahahahaha xD Oh, and because she's the best friend, reader and future writer of the Galaxy ;3_

* * *

**ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS FANFIC-EVEN THOSE BASED ON REAL PEOPLE-ARE ENTIRELY FICTIONAL AND BELONG TO TREY PARKER AND MATT STONE. ALL THE CHARACTERS RETAIN THEIR ORIGINAL PERSONALITY... POORLY. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE, SHONEN-AI/YAOI/SLASH, POSSIBLE OUT OF CHARACTER, ETC., AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT, IT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE.**

* * *

6

Mommy's Dictator

* * *

When lunchtime came, I scrambled away from everyone and I hid in the library. I needed a quiet and peaceful place, where almost no one ever was.

I found a free table and plopped down in its chair, sighing. I was really tired: my head never stopped hurting and I still felt quite dizzy. I took out the Guilty Notebook from my backpack and laid it on the wooden table in front of me. For a few seconds I watched it intently without moving.

I opened it slowly, and on the first page I was received a printed list, entitled **Basic Regulation for the Guilty and the Redeemer**. Regulation? I sighed to start reading:

* * *

Apologizing is never easy, but it's worse for the Guilty. Therefore, it is advisable to follow these simple instructions when time to apologize comes.

If you are the **Guilty**:

* _You must relax before apologizing._ Being tense or nervous will only make things worse.

* _You must be totally honest, and feel no shame at all._ There is nothing to be ashamed of in apologizing, but if you feel you must say something to the affected, do it sincerely.

* _You can __**not**__ obligate the affected to apologize you._ You are forbidden to use threats, insults, bribes and/or violence to get an apology.

If you follow these tips, you will almost certainly get your desired apology.

If you are the **Redeemer**:

* _You have the responsibility to get the Guilty to apologize honestly._ If the apology is not sincere, treatment misses its point.

* _You can share your personal experiences with the Guilty and the affected._ Before, during and after an apology, it's recommended that you demonstrate to the Guilty that you also have problems, sharing something with him/her.

* You can **not** obligate the Guilty to apologize. You are forbidden to use threats, insults, bribes and/or violence to get the Guilty to apologize.

If you follow these tips, it is very likely that the Guilty will access voluntarily to offer a real apology.

It is important to remember that both the Guilty and the Redeemer must take seriously the feelings of the affected. As well as apologizing is not easy, neither is forgiveness.

* * *

After reading, I wasn't sure how to feel. I was most surprised with having to share personal experiences with Cartman. Why would I do that? He knows that I have problems, in fact, he's the cause of many of them. Another sigh escaped my lips, when I went to the next page.

This one was markedly different. It was written in illegible handwriting of Cartman. I had to make a huge effort to understand what he said. A point in his favor? His spelling was unbelievably perfect.

The first thing I read (and that was the title page) was _Liane Cartman (my mother)_. I was surprised how big it was the block of text describing why Liane was an affected. He mentioned things like _'I have to yell at her all the time, because she is too submissive'_, _'it's also her fault, not just mine' _and finally, _'I don't deserve a mother like her... and she doesn't deserve a son like me'_.

What did he mean with _'she doesn't deserve a son like me'_? Probably he thought she didn't deserve such an awesome and wonderful son. Yeah, right.

I flipped to the next page: _Butters Stotch (fag)_. For some reason I expected to see my name there, and something like disappointment appeared on my chest. I read over this new text block, and realized they were two full veneers. Oh, well. Phrases that really made me stop and read again, were like, _'He's a coward, and it's like he wants me to mistreat him, maybe he's kind of a masochist'_, _'his parents are fucking abusers (and so I am, but it's different because he is THEIR son and not MINE)' _and_ 'I still don't understand why he's still everywhere I go, or helping me in what I do: but that's okay, it's always good to have someone who always takes the consequences'_.

That last part made me feel some guilt. I still remember that time when we blamed Butters for having written _'The Tale Of Scrotie McBoogerballs' _and it was a huge success until the Kardashians died. Poor Butters.

Then Sarah Jessica Parker was killed, and he also took the consequences of our actions... well, the consequences of Cartman and Kenny's actions, I also remember that Stan and I refused to participate in that.

I spent the next pages quickly, reading the titles and looking for one in particular: _Kenny McCormick (that poor piece of shit)_, _Stan Marsh (the Hippie Tree Friend)_; _Wendy Testaburger (Hippie Tree Friend's bitch)_, _Patty Nelson (my ex-bitch)_, _Scott Tenorman (that asshole that learned the hard way not to make fun of me_), _Craig Tucker (that fagot who can't smile)_, _Tweek Tweak (previous fagot's bitch)_, _Thomas (Tourette's sufferer)_... and so on.

WHERE THE HELL WAS MY FUCKING NAME?!

After Tweek (I was still surprised by the _'Craig's Bitch'_ thing), came the following: _Sheila Broflovski (Jewish slut who thinks she's perfect)_. Although obviously the insult bothered me, I decided to read what he had to say about my mother.

_'She always seeks to ruin what she thinks is dangerous... But she doesn't understand that if it's not dangerous, it's not fun! She even tried to cancel the Terrance and Phillip Show (that's sacrilege!). All I did was sing a song referring to the big fat bitch she is, when I was 10 years old. Is it that bad? I don't think so, but you (yeah, you fucking Jew who is reading this), you won't stop bitching until I apologize to her, so I will.' _

I couldn't help laughing softly. I was also annoyed that my mother tried to cancel Terrance and Phillip, but no way I would accept the fatass to sing in my mother's face that she's the biggest bitch in the whole wide world. I would definitely enjoy a lot when he had to apologize to her.

I spent more and more pages. Nowhere was my name. I reached the end of the notebook (to which still remained about twenty free pages) and no sign of my name anywhere. Perhaps he had forgotten that he also should apologize to me?

If that was the case, I would have to remind him.

* * *

I came to the cafeteria quickly. The students were in the middle of lunch, which made me surprise myself by my speed for reading and walking. I searched with my gaze our usual table, that one right near the window where the guys of our grade took refuge (and sometimes some girls took refuge too).

There they were, as always. Clyde with Kenny, sharing with him that month's Playboy. Token with his girlfriend Nichole, she deposited a spoonful of mashed potatoes in her boyfriend's mouth... _ugh_. Bebe chatting with Tweek, kind of away from the crowd, while Craig sat next to the blond boy and handed him a cup of coffee. Wendy again sitting on my best friend's lap, but now he wasn't cranky anymore, but he smiled towards his girl like he was watching a rainbow. Butters casting prying glances at Clyde and Kenny as he stirred his mashed potatoes, and next to him... well, you know who.

I approached the table with a firm step, and when I was there, I threw the red notebook right in front of Cartman's lunch. The sound of the impact made all eyes directed to me (and Nichole's mashed potatoes fell on Token's purple sweater). While Cartman was looking at his notebook, and then at me, I sat in front of him with my arms crossed.

"Why the hell my name isn't on the notebook?," I hissed, while some of our classmates went back to their business, and others watched us askance. "I must remind you..."

"I know. Stop bitching, Jew," he replied simply, carrying his hamburger to his mouth and taking a bite. As I didn't take my eyes off him, he swallowed fast. "What do you want?"

"Write my name in the notebook, fatass," I demanded without looking down. Doing so would be giving up, and giving up to Cartman is losing. I wasn't going to lose. "Do it now."

"No, I won't," he refuted, leaving his hamburger in his tray and pushing it away from him, as if he no longer was hungry. He leaned toward me with a crooked smile. "Are you going to make me? Then I'll need to remind you that you have forbidden to do that, _Redeemer_."

I frowned at his triumphant look. To him that was the confirmation that I had lost... poor naive boy.

"Well, I must remind you that you are required to write the names of ALL the affected people," I continued, looking at him as he turned to me in disbelief

"I said I won't write your name now," he said, arching his eyebrows and bringing back his tray close to him. "I will do it later, when I feel like it."

"Why the fuck did you accept to help him?," said Craig, looking at me with disinterest from the other side of the table, his monotone voice boring as ever.

All eyes turned to look at me, and I had to look down, blushing with embarrassment. Did I mention that I hate being the center of attention? I opened my mouth to respond, but I couldn't say anything. I didn't want to admit that my desire for revenge was my engine, but...

"Because he's a fucking altruist, he believes he can make a difference... Who's gonna save the world tonight? It's Kyle!," Cartman blurted mockingly, causing Clyde to chuckle until Kenny hit him in the arm. Cartman turned to me to continue. "And because he wants to see me humiliated in front of all of you. And I'm a selfish bastard? I think you should look beyond your noses."

All those eyes on me became even heavier. I noticed Stan looking at me with apprehension, because he knew that Cartman was right this time. I looked down, embarrassed. Cartman grinned at my lowered position. That son of a bitch... Wait! I hadn't lost yet...

"Well, today you'll apologize to your mother," my words seemed to strike him in the face with great force. I could see Stan smiling and Kenny chuckling. Cartman's surprised expression was enough for me to smirk. "You said it yourself: _she doesn't deserve a son like you._"

I stood for a second before the bell rang back to classes. I turned away from the table a few steps, still smiling at his puzzled face.

"Wait for me after classes, and we'll go to your house together. And you better feel guilty."

Needless to say, I went to my next class with the taste of victory still sweetening my senses.

* * *

I walked deliberately slow out of the classroom. I put my books in my locker, in no hurry. I hung my bag on my shoulder, and pressed against my chest that damn red notebook, as I headed to our High School's front door. I opened it, and waiting with his arms crossed, was Cartman.

"What the hell took you so long?," he snapped, and I just ignored him, starting to walk. He followed me, sulking. "Fifteen minutes! Fifteen fucking minutes, Kahl!"

I continued ignoring him, walking in front of him. That only infuriated him further. He snorted loudly, and began to walk beside me, following my step. A few minutes passed in silence, until finally I decided to talk:

"Do you feel guilty?"

"What?"

I stopped. He continued to walk a few steps to realize that he was alone. He turned and stared at me. I didn't move an inch. With an exasperated sigh, he approached me shuffling.

"Do you feel guilty?" I repeated with monotone voice

"I don't know," he said, shrugging his shoulders and hiding his hands in the pockets of his jacket. As I didn't speak, he added. "I think my mom deserves an apology... but she's also guilty. I mean, she spoiled me... I don't know how to explain myself."

"You explain yourself quite well," I nodded with a little smile. I started to walk again, and he followed me again. "I only ask you to be honest with her. If you think she is partly to blame-and she is-you have to tell her. I don't expect you to feel guilty right away... I understand it must be difficult."

"That's an understatement," he just laughed bitterly, and I had to look at him to see he wasn't joking. "I have never felt guilt, Kyle. I know I have done terrible things, but I just don't feel guilty."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I kept silent. I had a hard time realizing that he called me _'Kyle'_ and not _'Kahl'_. It was also extremely rare that his voice was serious and sincere, something not often heard coming from him.

The way to his home was short. Neither of us spoke, but I could feel his eyes landed on me all the time. I didn't look back at him, but I pressed the notebook against my chest even harder. When we finally arrived, he opened the door and stood aside to let me pass first. With suspicion (and a strange warmth in my cheeks), I entered into his house. He closed the door behind me with a slam, and I figured out that was his way to let his mother know that he was home.

"MOM, I'M HOME!"

His scream hurt my poor eardrums, and I knew I had figured out wrong. The slam wasn't his notification of arrival, but that caveman scream was. Liane came out the kitchen door with a huge smile, and a smudge of flour on her right cheek.

"Hi, honey!," she greeted her son, quickly approaching and kissing his cheek. When she turned to me, he wiped the flour that she left in his face. "Hi, Kyle! I'm glad to see you."

"Hi, Liane," I said, getting a kiss full of flour on my cheek. "I'm also glad to see you"

"I'm making cookies," she giggled, wiping from my cheek the flour that she left. "Come into the kitchen, I have some cookies ready, and I want you to tell me what you think about them!"

She ran back to the kitchen with grace. Cartman and I exchanged nervous glances, then we followed her with much less spirit. Upon entering the room, the appetizing aroma of freshly baked cookies filled my lungs. Truly was an exquisite aroma, and I wasn't used to it: my mother never prepared cookies.

Liane came to us with a tray full of steaming cookies in various shapes and colors. Wishing they didn't have too much sugar, I took a star-shaped one, and looked surprised at Cartman as I noted that he hadn't taken any. His mother looked as surprised as I was, and put the tray on the table.

"Eric, sweetie..."

"Sit down, Mom."

His overbearing tone of voice seemed to leave his mother speechless. Obediently, she pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. Cartman sat opposite her. And I, not knowing what to do, sat next to him, leaving the notebook on the table in front of me.

An awkward silence filled the place. Mother and son looked into each other's eyes, expectantly. I munched on my cookie nervously, like a mouse with a piece of cheese, my eyes wandering between them both. Cartman settled into his seat, sighing deeply.

"Mom ... I want to apologize to you for everything I've put you through," he began solemnly, as choosing the right words to say. Liane expressed surprise on her face, and I just kept silent. "I know I haven't been the best son in the world, and I have treated you in a way you don't deserve. I always thought I had the right to use you, but now I see that it's not like that. But you have to admit...," he shifted again, squirming uncomfortably in his place. "... you are also to blame for this. You never corrected me, Mom. Maybe if I did..."

He didn't continue his sentence, just lowered his eyes to the wooden table where he drummed his fingers rhythmically. His mother waited for him to finish, but after a few minutes she knew he wouldn't. She smiled a little, and some tears glistened in her eyes.

"Eric, of course I apologize you" she said, excited. Her smile became a little weaker when she continued. "And I know I'm guilty here too. I'm responsible for your actions, I know. But... I couldn't say no to you, Eric. You were... you are all that I have, you know that, right?"

Cartman nodded, not looking up from the table. Liane glanced at me, and I quickly left my cookie on the table, swallowing.

"You know? I still remember when it all 'started'... Eric asked me to make a Halloween costume for him. He didn't know what costume he wanted, so he started to look through a book. He came running to me and pointing to a picture in a history book. It was Adolf Hitler," the woman said, staring at me. I stared at her, listening as the drumming of Cartman's fingers stopped a moment and then continued. "He had no idea who that man was, he was only eight years old so I thought it was innocence talking, and I made the costume anyways. Silly me. In the School they taught him who was Hitler, and he was fascinated. He came home and told me everything he had learned. Since then he idolizes that man, almost as much as Mel Gibson."

There was a short silence again, which I could only hear Cartman hitting the table. I recognized that he was following the beat of a military march. Liane sighed, and now she couldn't contain her tears. Cartman remained unmoved and indifferent, without stopping the rhythm he had achieved with his fingers. I felt like comforting her, but she looked up and stared at me with puffy eyes.

"W-When I heard that Eric... w-was responsible for the d-death of Jack...," Liane began again, and the pace at Cartman's fingers began to accelerate slowly. I knew she was talking about his father, and I avoided looking at him at all costs. "I-I was horrified. J-Jack... he was a g-good man..."

"Sure he was," interrupted Cartman, still pounding the table and without looking up. Anyway I noticed that he was totally frowning. "He was such a good man, that he slept with you while having a wife and a son."

"W-We all make m-mistakes, Eric, and I'm as g-guilty as he was," replied his mother, still hiccuping and more tears running down her cheeks. I felt like an intruder fly, being in a place where I shouldn't be, listening to things I shouldn't listen to. "H-He was always near t-to you, I told you that... he a-always sent money for your n-needs and asked me a-about you when we met casually around..."

"That's not enough!," her son muttered grimly, the rhythm of his fingers increasing at a maddening pace, his eyes glued to the table. "I didn't need his fucking money, nor needed him. He is much better off dead and buried."

Liane covered her mouth with her hands to oppress a cry of horror. I couldn't help but dedicate to Cartman one of my worst killer glares, but he was in his own world, oblivious to what was happening. He seemed possessed by some sort of demon, and if I weren't the skeptic that I am, I'd say that was the case.

"D-Don't lie, E-Eric!" Liane exclaimed rising from her seat, rebel. Cartman stopped the rhythm of his fingers suddenly, and looked at her. His expression seemed to soften at her mourn. "Y-You cried for him! I heard you, w-when you were alone in your room, but n-never told n-nothing! Don't t-think you're invincible because you're n-not..."

The surprise swept every inch of Cartman's face. Obviously he didn't know that his mother had heard him, and believed it that was his biggest secret. He also seemed perplexed by the fact that his mother talked to him that way. Liane turned around, pulling a handkerchief from her trouser's pocket and wiping her tears. I kept quiet, not moving. What could I say? Absolutely nothing.

"That's true," Cartman admitted suddenly, making both his mother and I dedicate him looks of astonishment. "I cried because I realized the monster I had become. I cried because the images of the dismembered bodies of that man and his wife kept chasing me and not letting me sleep. But I didn't feel guilt. And now, I don't feel it neither."

Liane sobbed even harder, and approached her son with her arms outstretched . He stood up quickly, and hugged her to his chest. My eyes couldn't open wider. I had never seen Cartman being honest, or embracing his mother with such affection.

I got up from my seat, I took the notebook and I pulled back a few steps. I gave them one last look, and as it seemed that they weren't to pull apart never again, so I decided that I wasn't needed here. I retired in silence, and I was careful not to make noise when I closed the front door.

I had a splitting headache, and my stomach hurt because I hadn't eaten lunch. But a small smile took place on my face, and I couldn't delete it.

I could consider that as our first apology.

* * *

Hey there!

Here it is, chapter 6! It had some drama, but not that much. I thought Liane deserved to be the first person Cartman apologized to. Did you like it? Anyways, it was quite long and I'm tired :(

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Special Thanks to...

... **CandiePie, Mistress of Craziness, LustForTheLetters, ActionGal07, Furjoshi, Sun-Stone-R-Rain, Friendly Face, Idkgirl27 **and** Ringo-Tensai** for _Reviewing!_

... **Feniella of Suburbia, Pacman2013, Idkgirl27, Ringo-Tensai, Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle, RockyRockster99, Jena-Tomas, Rrooftops, Ladybugs, MarcielleTehKat,** **LustForLetters,** **Mistress of Craziness, Furjoshi, Mariseby, Dehateh, Sleepy L. Head **and** Southparkgirl1995** for adding this story to _Favorites!_

... **Idkgirl27, Michi-chan2, Feniella of Suburbia, Coolcass21, JoannaKuwabara, Pacman2013, Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle, PinkXCloud, RockyRockster99, Magical Librarian, PosionSkittle, CandiePie, Gingersnaps13, MarcielleTehKat,** **LustForLetters,** **Mistress of Craziness, Timid Offerings, Furjoshi,** **Mariseby, Dehateh **and** Sleepy L. Head** for _Following_ this story!

... **Furjoshi **and** Sun-Stone-R-Rain**, _for noticing some mistakes I kept on doing! Sorry, I'll try to make it right!_

... the _Ghost Readers_, at least for _reading_!

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Answer to **Mistress of Craziness**: _You're right, you got to read what Cartman wrote... what did you think about it? I'm happy I didn't make too much mistakes! ;) Lol you'll know what Kenny is about when the time comes! I know, right? Flames and flamers are stupid, that's all. I really hope you liked this chapter, thanks for your support!_

Answer to **Sun-Stone-R-Rain**: _Thank you very much for your corrections! I fixed all the mistakes you pointed out. :) I'm really thankful about what you did, so if you see any other mistake please tell me! Thank you again!_

Answer to **Friendly Face**: _Thank you...! I guess... :D_

About the flame I answered in last chapter... I'll just move on and be happy! ;) Flamers don't deserve my attention, neither yours. Any future flame will be ignored.

Haters gonna hate. Flamers gonna flame. And I'm gonna keep on writing! :D

Okay, hope you liked this chapter.

_Read_ you soon!

_-*-_-*-_KovatePrivalski97._-*-_-*-_


	7. Le Petit Monstre

**Warning:** _This fanfic contains mostly the Kyman pairing (Best Pairing Ever in the Whole Wide World *w*). If you don't like this pairing, or you are homophobic, or you ship other pairing... -coughcoughStyle/Candy/AnyOthercoughcough-and you cannot stand this one... please, stop reading now. I don't care the classic review: "ooohh, kyman, yuck, no sense, blah, blah, stupidity, blah", right? Thank you very much. ;) _

_Cover by TheButterfly7 _

_Fanfic dedicated to _**Ringo-Tensai**._ Because I'm so mean I turned Kyman into one of her OTPs mwahahahahaha xD Oh, and because she's the best friend, reader and future writer of the Galaxy ;3_

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**ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS FANFIC-EVEN THOSE BASED ON REAL PEOPLE-ARE ENTIRELY FICTIONAL AND BELONG TO TREY PARKER AND MATT STONE. ALL THE CHARACTERS RETAIN THEIR ORIGINAL PERSONALITY... POORLY. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE, SHONEN-AI/YAOI/SLASH, POSSIBLE OUT OF CHARACTER, ETC., AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT, IT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE.**

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7

Le Petit Monstre

* * *

Math is my favorite High School subject. Everyone looks at me funny when I say it out loud. Cartman has always said that I like Math because I'm Jewish, but he is always following his stereotypes and his opinion isn't very valid. Kenny has always said that it's okay that I like Math, as long as I let him copy from my homework. Stan has always said that Math is the worst torture created by man, and he didn't understand shit about numbers.

And that was why I was there on Wednesday afternoon, in my best friend's bedroom, trying to explain for the tenth time the same theorem. While I was talking to Stan what was a strange language for him, he bit his pencil constantly, and pinched his nose in frustration.

"Forget it, Kyle!," he cried for the third time, covering his face with his pillow. He was lying face down on his bed, and I was sitting on the floor with two open books. "I just don't understand!"

"Stan, if you paid attention to me..."

"I'm paying attention! But it's like you're talking Chinese, or something!"

I sighed heavily, pushing the two books off my legs and hiding my face in my hands. I was really frustrated, not only by the fact that Stan didn't understand anything, but also because I couldn't erase from my mind the image of Cartman and his mother embraced.

Never in a million years, I would have expected to see something like that. Cartman had never demonstrated affection to his mother, at least not in front of me. And seeing him hug her had left me perplexed. On one hand I was happy that he was finally proving to feel some guilt. On the other hand, I felt weird seeing him act so different than usual.

"Hey, Kyle..."

"You want me to explain it again?"

"No... but I want to read this."

I looked up quickly and opened my eyes wide: Stan was holding the Guilty Notebook. He must have checked my backpack (which was on the bed), and found it.

"Stan, give me that notebook, please," I asked, extending my arm toward him.

"Let me read a bit...," he begged, smiling a little. I jumped up, and he went out of his bed, holding up the book. Although I tried to reach it, I couldn't. "Come on, Kyle... I won't tell anyone!"

"You'll tell Wendy!," I reproached, stretching out even more if possible. He turned away from me, and I had to chase him.

"She won't tell anyone!"

"She'll tell Bebe, and Bebe will tell Heidi, and Heidi will tell Nichole, and Nichole...!"

Stan stumbled upon one of my books, and fell headlong to the ground. As I laughed at him, I took the opportunity to take the red notebook from his hands. I turned my back, victorious... shame on me. When I turned to look at him, I let out a cry of horror at the sight of him jumping on me. He pinned me to the ground and began to tickle my stomach, because that bastard knew that was one of my weaknesses. Laughing like a maniac, I tried to keep the notebook out of his reach.

I heard footsteps approaching his bedroom, but he didn't stop his fucking tickling. The door opened.

"Stanley, your friends are here, they came to do homework and..."

Sharon Marsh couldn't continue speaking, and stood staring at us. Surely she didn't expect to see her son keeping his best friend pinned on the floor while torturinghim by tickling his stomach. Behind her, Kenny and Cartman stuck their heads. Kenny suppressed a laugh, while Cartman was staring at his notebook, which I kept away from Stan as best as I could.

"I... I'll leave you alone," resolved Sharon, going away at a fast pace

Stan and I exchanged confused looks. Why the fuck would she react like that? We're best friends, what was the problem? Stan quickly rose and extended his hand to me to help me. When both were standing, we looked toward the door at once.

Kenny roared with laughter, while Cartman was still motionless. Then he whispered to Stan:

"You read it, hippie?"

"No," said my friend seriously as I took away some dust from my clothes

"I'm the only one who read it, fatass" I clarified, squeezing the notebook to my chest to make it crystal clear

"You better not be lying, Jew" he corresponded in an aggressive tone, his hazel eyes staring into mine

I didn't know how long we were watching us intently, but we both knew that looking down meant a defeat.

"Uh... Hey, Kenny, would you like to come down and play Call of Duty?" I heard Stan whisper, a little away from me and towards the door

"Nah, I'm comfortable here..." said Kenny, looking at Cartman and then at me

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, snorting. Without warning, he left his room and dragged Kenny along with him, who resisted but eventually stopped doing so, mumbling nonsense as they descended the stairs.

Silence spread in the room, and we were still staring into each other's eyes. Suddenly, I remembered that time Cartman appeared at the School with blue eyes.

I was quite surprised when I saw him. His blue eyes were very familiar... and he confused me even more when he said those eyes were Kenny's. He told us a story in which Kenny had died, and had given him his eyes because he had terrible sight. Obviously we didn't believe him, what fool would believe a story in which Kenny died? Kenny appeared the next day at School, and we knew that Cartman was lying. Again.

We never knew where he got those blue eyes. But he got them until he was thirteen. He said something about an urgent call to his mom, and that he must go to _'change his eyes'_. It sounded so stupid, that we didn't even pay attention. The next day, he had hazel eyes. They weren't like when we were in kindergarten (just brown), weren't blue neither. Hazel.

I had always believed that hazel eyes were the most beautiful ones. Even more than green ones, or blue ones. But Cartman made me change my mind. Every time I saw those hazel eyes, they returned me a look of scorn and contempt. So much hate. As much as I hate him.

I focused so much on my mind, I didn't realize that Cartman was frowning with his arms crossed. Also, he was standing right in front of me. Too close. I jumped a little when he began to speak:

"What are you waiting for?"

"Huh?"

"What are you waiting for to start laughing at me?"

I couldn't help but frown too, but because I was confused. I took a step away from him. He took a step toward me. Damn it.

"What are you talking about?" I asked honestly, titling my head to the right curiously

"Oh, now you don't know what I'm talking about..." he hissed, his eyes narrowing slightly. He smirked, shaking his head. "You read all the shit I wrote in that fucking notebook. I was weak with my mother, and even comforted her in front of you. And yet you wonder what I'm talking about?"

I blinked several times, my mind was blank. I took another step backwards and found Stan's bed with my legs. I almost fell back, but I could keep standing. Cartman took another step toward me, without changing his expression.

"I... I don't know," I said, shrugging my shoulders languidly. Seriously, I didn't know. Maybe I should laugh, but no. I couldn't, and that was making me sick. "It's not funny."

Cartman was silent examining my face, he was looking for any indication that I was lying. I met his gaze, knowing that he wouldn't find it. When he was satisfied, he gave me something that looked like a smile but it wasn't. He turned away from me a few steps, bringing me back my precious personal space.

When the silence became uncomfortable, I remembered something that had me confused. I opened the Guilty Notebook, while he followed my movements with his eyes, carefully as I looked for a particular page.

"Can you explain to me what does this mean?" I questioned, extending toward him the open red notebook

He took it in his hands, and read the title written with his terrible handwriting. He looked at me, confused.

"What do you want me to explain, Jew?"

"Why does it say that Tweek is Craig's bitch?"

When I just ended saying that, he threw an uproarious laughter, clearly relieved. Maybe he expected a more important question. He saw my face began to blush furiously, because I hate to see people laugh without knowing why they do it, his laughter was further intensified.

"You didn't know?," he continued laughing, wiping some tears from his eyes. He handed me the notebook, and I shook my head impatiently. "Craig is dating Tweek... They started dating two weeks ago. Everyone knows it. I thought you knew too."

"Well, obviously I had no idea..." I began to speak, but his laughter became even harder as he bent over his stomach. I raised my eyebrows at that, and that seemed to make him laugh even more

"Your face..." he said breathless with laughter, tears drying further. He straightened up, and tried unsuccessfully to stop laughing. "You're hilarious, Kahl."

"Oh, yeah. I'm so funny."

He fought with himself not to laugh at my comment. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to stop. Finally he succeeded, with difficulty. He stared at me in silence, and I looked away, uncomfortable.

"So... What happened after I left yesterday?" I dropped suddenly. His expression hardened instantly, and I bit my tongue.

"Well... my mom cried a little more," he reported, shrugging his shoulders and looking over my head to avoid eye contact. He smiled a little. "She soaked my jacket with her tears..."

"Is that what you care about?," I chuckled. The tension in the air was gone.

"Not really. She is the one who will wash it, not me," he openly smiled, and this time we both laughed. It was weird to laugh _with_ Cartman, and not _at_ Cartman. "Everything was fine. We're fine."

"That's great."

"Yeah."

Cartman opened his mouth to say something more, but was interrupted by a humming coming from downstairs:

"Cartman, Kyle! Are you done with your making out session?!"

"Kenny, you son of a bitch!" Cartman exclaimed and ran out of the room

I heard his footsteps thundering down the stairs, and then the sound of some punches that poor Kenny would be receiving. However, I smiled a little with an annoying blush on my cheeks.

Kenny deserved a beating up for talking nonsense.

* * *

Thursday's dinner at home was horrible. The tension could be breathed, and my lungs weren't used to it. I sighed heavily again, slowly stirring my food without appetite.

As heard in the desperate cries of my mother that greeted me when I got home, my father had not answered any of her calls. And she had called him more than thirty times. That night I decided I wasn't going to run away with my brother to my room, as usual. That time would be different.

So I stood beside him, watching my parents go on their business. A few minutes passed, until my father realized that we both were staring at them. My mother also noticed our presence, and the discussion ended there. I knew they would continue discussing when their bedroom doors were closed, but at that moment I felt I had finally accomplished something good: they would no longer argue in front of Ike. That was all that mattered.

The irritating sound of the phone ringing startled us all. I got up from the table before my mother, and I hastened to answer only to stop seeing their funeral faces.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Kahl."

That irritating and mocking voice wasn't in my plans. I sighed heavily, and I could hear him chuckling across the line.

"What is it, Cartman?" I asked with little patience, leaning back against the kitchen wall and closing my eyes tightly

"I just wanted to ask you something, Kahl," he continued talking with that cloying tone that I hated. "Have you thought who will receive the next apology?"

That question made me open my eyes suddenly, as if I had received a bucket of cold water. I had completely forgotten about the fucking notebook.

"Uh... no," I admitted, biting my lower lip. It was supposed to be my damn obligation now, right?

"I'm glad to have such a responsible Redeemer" he returned to laugh at me, and I pulled back a little the phone from my ear to not hear him. "So... what do you think about Butters?"

"Well, I don't think so," I shook my head but I knew he couldn't see me. He snorted. "You'll force him to forgive you, so he will be for later."

"Yeah, whatever. Any other ideas, Jew?"

"Thomas."

There was a small silence. I started to get little impatient when that silence became a huge one. A few minutes later, he spoke:

"Tourette's sufferer?"

"That one" I nodded quickly, rolling my eyes. "You haven't seen him in a while, I think it'll be easier for you... I don't know."

Since when did I care that things were easier for the fatass? I felt dizzy again, as I waited for a response from the other side of the line that never came.

"All right," he finally answered, and I yawned. I was very, very tired. "I think Craig is still in touch with him..."

"Okay. Bye."

I hung up immediately. I didn't want to continue talking to Cartman, and I didn't want to see my family act as zombies... I just wanted to sleep all night taking advantage of Ike finally sleeping in his bedroom.

* * *

"Are you sure of this, fatass?"

"Of course, Jew. Don't be a pussy, okay?"

I frowned at his comment, but I kept quiet. Arguing with him was fun sometimes, and other times it was exhausting. After a long and boring History class (the only subject in which Cartman and I shared classroom), we both headed to the boys bathrooms in third floor, where Clyde told us that Craig was in recess.

Up the stairs with Cartman was funny. I heard him complain and insult the guy who built the building for putting "so long" stairs. Maybe Cartman had lost weight, but he was still out of shape.

We arrived to the third floor, and Cartman had to make a huge effort to breathe properly. I held a cruel laugh, then we looked for that bathroom. It was strange: that boy's bathroom was out of service for three months, and therefore no one was there. What the fuck would Craig do in that place?

When we finally found the place, I opened the door quietly... and my jaw dropped.

Cartman tried hard not to laugh at my surprised and blushed expression, seeing Craig being very affectionate with Tweek. They would call that a kiss, but I called it something else. I closed the door again and made an attempt to go away, but Cartman's hand closed around my arm:

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?," he whispered, as I tried to free myself from his grip

"Far away from here, didn't you see that Craig is eating Tweek alive?," I hissed, struggling even more without success

"It's just a kiss..."

"It's cannibalism!"

"Who the hell is out there?"

The monotone voice of Craig made us freeze in our places. We looked at each other, and both had wide eyes as we heard footsteps approaching the door. Craig came out the door with his classic scowl. He looked at us up and down with a frown, and he noticed Cartman's hand squeezing my arm.

"Here is occupied. Go find somewhere else," he snapped, arching his eyebrows

I just realized what he was implying, I could see a small pink tone appear in Cartman's cheeks and I struggled twice, finally freeing myself from his grasp and moving away from him right away.

"It's not what you're thinking!," I said, but the stupid blush my cheeks contradicted me

"I don't care," Craig shrugged with disinterest. Tweek looked at us from behind him and when he saw us he started with his classic desperate screams, trembling. "What do you want then?"

"Well... Kyle wants to say something!" Cartman exclaimed, resting his hands on my shoulders just to annoy me. I shook slightly to get him away, frowning.

"You see, we heard that you keep in touch with Thomas...," I started slowly, watching the reactions of the boy in front of me. He furrowed his brow a little confused. "Tourette's sufferer..."

"Oh, yeah," Craig murmured, nodding slowly. "So what?"

"We want to see him again, it's been a very long time since we last met!," Cartman crooned, with that sweet tone of voice he used when he wanted to deceive someone

"OH! Thomas w-works in my f-father's Cafe," intervened Tweek, looking at us again a bit quieter, but obviously still shaking constantly. "Y-You can find him a-at afternoon, GAH! He works on that t-time..."

"Thank you!," I exclaimed, perhaps too enthusiastic. I really wanted to get away from that fucking bathroom.

Craig nodded again and Tweek smiled at us. Cartman and I started walking back to class, but the bored voice of Craig stopped us:

"Hey," he called, and we just turned around to see him. He had the door almost closed door and a smirk on his face. "Always use protection."

"Sure, dude," Cartman responded with a huge smile as my brain processed what I had just heard

"What the...?!" I cried, horrified by the conclusion I reached. Cartman laughed heartily at my flushed face. I looked at him with a frown. "It's not funny!"

"Yes, it is!," he continued laughing, and began to descend the stairs slowly. "He's a fag, and he thinks we are fags too..."

* * *

As we just left High School, we both headed to Mr. Tweak's Cafe silently. I had to decline an invitation from Stan and Kenny to play videogames with them, so I was cranky. We arrived relatively quickly, after all here in South Park everything is near.

When we entered, we saw some clients at their tables so we sat facing each other in a free table near a window. We waited patiently... well, at least I did. Cartman started pounding the table with his fingers as he had done before, again a military march.

We were approached by a red haired girl, wearing a dull brown uniform and a huge smile on her face full of freckles. I could see Cartman wince at her, disgusted.

"What can I do for you?," she asked us, with a small notebook in her hand and a pencil ready to write our order

"Actually, we came to see someone," I spoke quickly, smiling a little to disguise Cartman's hostility. "Thomas works here, right?"

"Oh, yes! Would you prefer that he attended you?"

"That would be great."

The girl nodded, and retreated to the back room with elegant step. I looked at Cartman frowning, and he stared back at me.

"How do they let that kind of people work here?," he questioned, arching his eyebrows. "Her face is repellent, and her lack of soul is terrifying..."

"Shut up!," I ordered, trying not to speak too loudly not to attract the attention of nearby tables. "Stop being a dick, fatass."

Cartman didn't answer me, just chuckled shrugging his shoulders for not caring. It took just a few minutes until the back room's door opened and came out a nervous-looking blond guy. He came to our table quickly.

"Hi, I'm Thomas and...," he stopped when he noticed me, and apparently recognized me, forming a small smile. "Is it you, Kyle?"

"Hey, Thomas" I replied smiling and nodding. He turned to Cartman. "He is Eric Cartman, do you remember...?"

"Oh, yeah! FUCK! He's that fat kid who mocked my illness, right?" he asked, looking at him more carefully. Cartman nodded, wincing. "What can I do for you? CRAP!"

"Well, Cartman wants to say something...," I said, and then kept silent, waiting

Cartman took a deep breath, as if preparing to jump off a cliff. Just at that moment I realized how difficult it was for him, because it went against each of his features as a sociopath.

"Thomas, I apologize to you for making fun of you and your disease," he let out, and surprisingly we were able to understand what he was saying. "I thought your illness was more like a game or a gift, when actually it's an obstacle in the lives of many people. I'm really sorry."

"Okay... SON OF A BITCH! I think... I can forgive you," Thomas conceded, smiling. Then he laughed a little. "Looks like you learned your lesson... STUPID FAG! I remember you said many things that were not supposed to when you lost control..."

"Yeah, well...," Cartman seemed to try to say something more. After a sigh, he finally succeeded. "Thank you."

Thomas nodded at him in acknowledgment, and I couldn't hide the surprise on my face to hear him say that. Cartman ever said 'thank you', at least never sincerely. This time it _seemed_ different.

"I... I would like a cappuccino" I intervened after a moment.

Thomas wrote down my order in his notebook and turned to Cartman. He shook his head, and Thomas walked away from us in peace.

I looked at Cartman carefully. He kept his eyes on his hands as if suddenly he found them extremely interesting. Maybe he felt my gaze on him, because he looked at me right away. His brow was furrowed slightly, and he seemed to be meditating.

We kept in silence for a few moments just facing each other, until he decided to speak:

"I feel weird," he confessed in an almost inaudible voice, sighing confused. I said nothing, and he continued. "I'm thinking... Thomas will surely have a hard time finding work due to Tourette. I kinda feel like an asshole for having mocked him... I actually don't know what I'm feeling."

"It's called _guilt_," I whispered, and I saw clearly that confusion on his face became obvious. "When you feel like an asshole for something you did, you're feeling guilty. It's good that you feel that way."

Cartman was silent a moment, looking down and thinking about what he had just heard. I smiled a little, because this meant some progress in his treatment. After a few minutes, Cartman looked at me with a grin on his face:

"Oh, well. Guilt sucks."

* * *

Hey everyone!

Here's chapter 7. I think it's the longest chapter I've written yet, at least for this fic. What do you think about it? First of all, this chapter title is in French and it means 'The Little Monster'. It's kind of a parody to 'Le Petit Tourette' (The Little Tourette), just because of Thomas and Kyman and me being an obsessive Kyman shipper and stuff xD.

Second of all, I'm having some trouble with my laptop :( My Mom called someone to fix it, and she's not letting me use it until this person comes... but she doesn't know I'm doing this :P

I hope this guy comes soon, so I can use my own laptop without having to hide from my Mom :/

* * *

Special Thanks to...

... **Furjoshi, Idkgirl27, Mistress of Craziness, **and** Ringo-Tensai** for _Reviewing!_

... **Feniella of Suburbia, Pacman2013, Idkgirl27, Ringo-Tensai, Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle, RockyRockster99, Jena-Tomas, Rrooftops, Ladybugs, MarcielleTehKat,** **LustForLetters,** **Mistress of Craziness, Furjoshi, Mariseby, Dehateh **and** Sleepy L. Head **for adding this story to _Favorites!_

... **Idkgirl27, Michi-chan2, Feniella of Suburbia, Coolcass21, JoannaKuwabara, Pacman2013, Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle, PinkXCloud, RockyRockster99, Magical Librarian, PosionSkittle, CandiePie, Gingersnaps13, MarcielleTehKat,** **LustForLetters,** **Mistress of Craziness, Timid Offerings, Furjoshi,** **Mariseby, Dehateh **and** Sleepy L. Head** for _Following_ this story!

... the _Ghost Readers_, at least for _reading_!

* * *

Answer to **Mistress of Craziness**: _Thank you! I'm trying to get better, and I hope this chapter had nearly no mistakes. Maybe you're right.. Kyle really wanted to read his name in there. Kenny and his mystery ;3 Bunny is one of my favorites pairings, besides Stendy, Creek and many others xD Yeah, poor Liane deserved an apology. I think that Kyle is already getting some good feelings out of Cartman. I'm really glad I made you laugh! I thought that line would really fit Cartman and his sarcasm :D Thanks for everything!_

That's all. I really, really hope you liked this chapter. It took me a while to write it down, so please tell me what you think about it.

Now I gotta go, before my Mom grounds me (feel like Butters xD)

_Read_ you soon!

_-*-_-*-_KovatePrivalski97._-*-_-*-_


	8. Old Times

**Warning:** _This fanfic contains mostly the Kyman pairing (Best Pairing Ever in the Whole Wide World *w*). If you don't like this pairing, or you are homophobic, or you ship other pairing... -coughcoughStyle/Candy/AnyOthercoughcough-and you cannot stand this one... please, stop reading now. I don't care the classic review: "ooohh, kyman, yuck, no sense, blah, blah, stupidity, blah", right? Thank you very much. ;) _

_Cover by TheButterfly7 _

_Fanfic dedicated to _**Ringo-Tensai**._ Because I'm so mean I turned Kyman into one of her OTPs mwahahahahaha xD Oh, and because she's the best friend, reader and future writer of the Galaxy ;3_

* * *

**ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS FANFIC-EVEN THOSE BASED ON REAL PEOPLE-ARE ENTIRELY FICTIONAL AND BELONG TO TREY PARKER AND MATT STONE. ALL THE CHARACTERS RETAIN THEIR ORIGINAL PERSONALITY... POORLY. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE, SHONEN-AI/YAOI/SLASH, POSSIBLE OUT OF CHARACTER, ETC., AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT, IT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE.**

* * *

8

Old Times

* * *

It was easier before. Or so I think.

When I was a kid, everything seemed wonderful. I still remember the days of sleepovers at Stan's house, staying up all night watching TV or playing video games. There couldn't be anything better. Stan, Kenny... and Cartman. My friends and I, being kids.

As a kid, girls made me sick, and I laughed at Stan for being with Wendy. That has not changed much, actually.

Listening to Kenny making perverted jokes was funny, but half of the time I didn't understand what he said.

Arguing with Cartman was a constant, day by day. In fact, it was the first thing I thought when I woke up every morning: _how will I ruin that fatass arguments today? _

But everything has changed now.

* * *

A week after Cartman's apology to Thomas, we hadn't crossed a word. Every time he saw me, he ran away from me. If I went down a hallway, he was automatically in another direction. He avoided at any cost eye contact and seemed nervous when I approached. I didn't understand.

I started to worry when I realized we had only advanced with two apologies. Only two. That was nothing. I tried to ignore the fact that Cartman fled me like I was Jeff the Killer*****. But I couldn't do it for too long, because every time I tried to forget about it, the fucking red book stopped me. Whenever I saw it, I remembered the bright eyes of hope that Liane had adopted since the beginning of the treatment.

However, I wouldn't be the one to who would look for the fatass to achieve an explanation. If he was avoiding me, he was the one who was screwed. That's all.

"Kyle? Are you there?"

Stan's voice startled me a bit. I looked in every direction, slightly disoriented. I recognized the Marsh's living room... Oh, yeah! We were at Stan's home for a sleepover. He, Kenny and me. Cartman was feeling sick... or rather, avoiding my presence like the coward he is.

I gave my best friend a confused look, who was sitting next to me on the floor in front of the couch, smiling.

"Kenny asks if you want a beer or a glass of warm milk," Stan repeated, chuckling. I looked at the kitchen door, and there was Kenny with a wry smile.

"I don't want anything, thanks," I whispered, shaking his head. Kenny shrugged, apparently a little disappointed, and walked into the kitchen.

Stan turned to me once, and now he seemed worried.

"Something wrong, Kyle?" he asked softly, moving closer to me. I shook my head quickly, and he winced. "Are you sure? You've been very distracted lately..."

"It's all right, Stan," I assured him, smiling a little to confirm it. Stan seemed to believe it... but I didn't. I sighed heavily. "Well... actually..."

"Aha! I knew it!" he exclaimed, excited

"It's... okay, Cartman has been avoiding me for a while, did you notice that?" I muttered, shrugging a little. Stan nodded quickly. "That's the problem. If he keeps avoiding me, the progress with the Guilty Notebook will be lost. And I'll be stuck with him for who knows how long."

Stan nodded slowly as he spoke, and waited for me to say something more. But I didn't know what else to say, so I just sighed again.

"So how do you want me to help you?" he asked after a few minutes in silence. I shrugged, and he chuckled. "You want me to kick his ass? Kenny would join me... Craig too... maybe Clyde...

"Let him be," I smiled at that silly joke, shaking my head again. "He will come to me. I'm sure of that."

"What's the buzz?" intervened Kenny, approaching us slowly not to spill what he had in his hands. He handed Stan a beer and sat on the couch with his own. He turned to me with a mischievous smile. "Here's your milk, little one."

"Fuck you, Kenny," I muttered, getting away from his hand with the glass of warm milk. "I don't want milk or anything."

"Warm milk is soothing, Kyle," said Stan, then took a sip from his bottle. "Drink it, and get some sleep."

I hesitated a moment, but then I took the glass with a snort. Kenny laughed and waited for me to get up from my place. I did so, settling down on the couch and starting to drink. Kenny and Stan started playing Assassin's Creed, and I began to feel that my eyelids weighed me more and more. For when the glass was empty, I was huddled in the corner of the couch, eyes half closed with sleep.

"You put drug on my milk, right?" I asked, more asleep than awake

Kenny laughed again, and Stan chuckled:

"Of course not, Kyle."

I closed my eyes, relaxed with a sigh. I felt light, quiet. I managed to form a small smile and joke:

"You're gonna rape me when I fall asleep, huh?"

"Of course not, Kyle!" Stan repeated, and I could almost see the demure blush on his cheeks

I heard Kenny chuckle, and I could perfectly imagine his smirk when he muttered:

"If tomorrow your ass hurts, you'll know..."

And that was the last thing I heard before falling asleep.

* * *

Sunday morning I woke up with some yelling from the living room. Although in my room I could barely hear the screams. I thought I heard the word "divorce". I thought that would make me sad or something, but I actually felt quite relieved. Maybe a divorce was the best for everyone.

I walked down the stairs slowly, still in pajamas, and went to the kitchen without even a glance at my parents. I took two bowls of one of the shelves, cereals and milk. I prepared breakfast for my brother and me, and sat quietly at the table.

From there, you could clearly hear my parents:

"I hope she cooks for you!"

"Sheila, listen to me..."

"I hope she supports all your carelessness!"

"There is no other woman, you're the only one..."

"And more than anything, I hope that she doesn't mind that you can't keep her satisfied on bed!"

There was a deathly silence in the other room, and I almost choked on the cereal I had in my mouth. I couldn't believe what he was hearing. My mother was insulting my father's masculinity.

How had they come to this?

I remember those old days very well. When I was only nine years old, and my only concern was doing my homework and not missing a single episode of Terrance and Phillip.

Back then, my parents never discussed. And if they did, they would hide it from my brother and me so we wouldn't be affected. Ike and I grew up in a relatively happy home, where small threads of which were witnesses ended with a kiss and a few laughs.

Maybe my parents' marriage was already deteriorated since then, but I didn't notice. I was too busy with my own business, like trying to escape Trent Boyett's merciless revenge or save Imaginationland from being bombed (and how was I rewarded? With a vision of an imaginary Me giving a blow job to an imaginary Cartman, an image I will never forget due to the disgust I felt).

Now, their discussions had escaped from their hiding places, and they were everywhere, all the time. Actually, I didn't care. Since I was 16, and I couldn't say that I was a man, but I couldn't say that I was still a child. I perfectly understood that love isn't forever. It has an end, just like everything in this unfair life and it makes no sense to force it to continue.

The only thing that worried me was Ike. He was only 11 years old, and he didn't deserve to see that his idea of happy family was crumbling in front of his eyes helplessly. Surely he felt powerless, and more than anything, sad. Because he had always been very grateful to this family for having received him as a new member without making difference between us.

The silence in the living continued, and I could only hear my little brother footsteps down the stairs. Quietly and without expression on his face, he sat beside me and started his breakfast. I knew him better, he was just repressing what he felt for not collapse again. I spent my arm around his shoulders as a gesture of support, and he gave me a small, weak smile, before continuing with his cereal.

The bell at the front door startled us both, but the silence continued. The doorbell again insisted, and I heard my mother snort while she went to the door and opened it wide.

"Oh, Doctor Smith! What a great surprise!" cried my mother, pretending joy with enormous professionalism

I was startled. What the hell was Smith doing in my house? Did Cartman call him, and had invented some of his lies? I sighed deeply: with Cartman you never know what to expect.

"Good morning, Sheila," kindly greeted the doctor's voice. "I would like to talk a moment with your son Kyle, if possible."

"Of course. Please, come in and feel at home" said my mother's voice, and then she called. "Kyle! Dr. Smith needs to talk with you!"

I got up and walked to the kitchen door shuffling. My mother was still at the door, while my father was sitting down on the couch and hiding his face in his hands. Dr. Smith gave me a small smile, but I just winced.

"Can we talk here in the kitchen?" I asked, without even bothering to say hello

Smith nodded quickly, and as he entered the kitchen, my brother came out of it with his bowl of cereal in hand and headed back to his room. With a wave of my right hand I pointed to the newcomer to sit at the table, and he did it right away. I continued eating breakfast, as usual.

"How have you been, Kyle?" he consulted, after watching me for a few seconds. I shrugged my shoulders languidly without interest to talk. He sighed. "Liane contacted me. She told me that Eric has not advanced with his treatment in several days, and that's worrying her."

There was a new silence, in which I took another spoonful of cereal into my mouth, taking my time to enjoy it. I didn't feel like talking about Cartman now, or rather never. Seeing that Smith didn't take his eyes off me, I reluctantly swallowed and looked at him with a frown.

"I tried to talk to him several times, but he runs away from me," I assured him, making it clear with my tone of voice that I didn't wanna talk about that. "He doesn't want to continue treatment, and I can't obligate him, so..."

"So you will surrender?" he completed my sentence with a question, and confused me a little. Seeing my eyebrows questioningly, the doctor chuckled. "I know why you accepted to help Eric. And believe me, Kyle, aside the formalities my profession requires: that bastard deserves to be disciplined, don't you think so?"

I was shocked to hear Smith talk that way. He had taken seriously what leaving formalities aside thing. I crossed my arms, puffing.

"Yeah, I think so," I nodded slowly, crabby about having to admit he was right. "But if that means that I have to go begging him to engage in treatment... I think it'll hold me off, and I'll leave him to remain being the shit he's always been."

"Nobody talks about begging," the doctor clarified, raising his hands to the air briefly. He leaned toward me, still smiling. "I'm talking about you trying to make him listen to you. And if he doesn't allow it... I think I can ignore one of the Guilty Notebook's rules, and let you obligate him."

"Wait a second... are you suggesting that I should force him to continue his treatment?" I leaned myself toward him involuntarily interested in the strange offer. He nodded slowly. "With all due respect, and although I can imagine thousands of ways to force him, I have a question: why you are so interested in Cartman becoming a _good boy_? I mean, he's a just another patient, right? Why do you care so much? Fuck him."

"Oh, Kyle, you speak from ignorance," he replied, returning to rest easy in his chair. I frowned at his comment, and he chuckled. "But don't worry: the less you know the better. All I'll say is that it's really important to recover Eric. And no, he is NOT just another patient."

"That's what Kenny said!" I cried exasperated with the mystery. Smith seemed somewhat surprised, but he pulled himself together. " '_It's life or death, Kyle.'_ What the fuck? I don't give a flying shit about what happens to Cartman, and I doubt that the world's future depends on the recovery of that fatass."

Smith laughed again, but this time a bit louder, as if I'd just made a terrific joke. He shook his head, still laughing a little.

"One day you'll understand. I hope that day isn't too late," he sentenced in deep voice, his smile disappearing completely. Then he stood up, smoothing his black suit a bit and away from the table. "Just try, Kyle. Don't give up, or you might regret it."

He retired without saying a word.

What the hell was that? A threat or a warning?

As I listened to him leave, politely saying goodbye to my mother, the words that both of us said returned to play in my mind. All the talk was confusing and strange. I felt that Smith had arrived, took my brain and prepared a smoothie with it.

I hid my face in my hands, breathing deeply. I didn't know what to do or what to think. If anything was certain, it was that Smith had a purpose that went beyond simple a treatment... and that thought made me feel even more dizzy. The fact that Kenny seemed to think like him didn't help much. What the hell were up to these two?

Hearing the front door of my house closed with a bang, the last words Smith had said hit me with a brutal force.

_ Don't give up, or you might regret it..._

* * *

**NO KYLE WAS RAPED DURING THE MAKING OF THIS CHAPTER**

* * *

Hey there everybody!

Yeah, I know it's been a while since I updated. And that this chapter is rather short... but I did my best. I'm having some trouble at home, and High School is about to start... so yeah.

*****Oh, and for those who don't know who 'Jeff the Killer' is, just type it in Google and you'll see! :P

* * *

Special Thanks to...

... **Perryshmirtz-BuJeet, Furjoshi, CandiePie, Mistress of Craziness, Ringo-Tensai **and** Pancakeatebatman** for _Reviewing!_

... **Feniella of Suburbia, Pacman2013, Idkgirl27, Ringo-Tensai, Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle, RockyRockster99, Jena-Tomas, Rrooftops, Ladybugs, MarcielleTehKat,** **LustForLetters,** **Mistress of Craziness, Furjoshi, Mariseby, Dehateh, Sleepy L. Head, Izzy-2d-x **and** KahlLittleMonster **for adding this story to _Favorites!_

... **Idkgirl27, Michi-chan2, Feniella of Suburbia, Coolcass21, JoannaKuwabara, Pacman2013, Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle, PinkXCloud, RockyRockster99, Magical Librarian, PosionSkittle, CandiePie, Gingersnaps13, MarcielleTehKat,** **LustForLetters,** **Mistress of Craziness, Timid Offerings, Furjoshi,** **Mariseby, Dehateh, Sleepy L. Head, KahlLittleMonster, Pancakeatebatman **and** Yu-chan-x3** for _Following_ this story!

... the _Ghost Readers_, at least for _reading_!

* * *

Answer to **CandiePie**: _Thank you! And yeah, seems like Cartman can feel guilt :D_

Answer to **Mistress of Craziness**: _Oh, thank you very much for correcting me! I'll try to fix that as soon as I can, I promise you. If you see any other mistake, just tell me ;) Soon you'll see where this story is going... in this chapter, for example, Smith's attitude is really strange D: I loved Kyle&Cartman's scene in Stan's room too! I really enjoyed writing it! Thank you for noticing the pause I made after the "fag" comment! You're the only one who noticed :D I'll try to update really soon, but it'll be difficult. I'll do my best! ;3_

Well, that's all for now. I'll do all I can to update soon, but I can't assure you I will be able to do so. Sorry, guys. You'll have to wait.

Anyways, tell me what you think about this chapter. I know it isn't much, but it'll get better in the next chapter.

* * *

**A little spoiler: Kyle and Cartman, trapped together in a boys' bathroom. What do you think about that? Mwahahahahah xD For real, it's what will happen in next chapter, so be patient and you'll be rewarded ;)**

* * *

Now I'll get going. I hope to be here updating really soon :)

_Read_ you soon!

_-*-_-*-_KovatePrivalski97._-*-_-*-_


	9. Never

**Warning:** _This fanfic contains mostly the Kyman pairing (Best Pairing Ever in the Whole Wide World *w*). If you don't like this pairing, or you are homophobic, or you ship other pairing... -coughcoughStyle/Candy/AnyOthercoughcough-and you cannot stand this one... please, stop reading now. I don't care the classic review: "ooohh, kyman, yuck, no sense, blah, blah, stupidity, blah", right? Thank you very much. ;) _

_Cover by TheButterfly7 _

_Fanfic dedicated to _**Ringo-Tensai**._ Because I'm so mean I turned Kyman into one of her OTPs mwahahahahaha xD Oh, and because she's the best friend, reader and future writer of the Galaxy ;3 _

**Note:**_ I wrote this chapter while listening to _My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light'em Up)_ by _Fall Out Boy_. If you can listen to this song and pay attention to its lyrics, you'll understand a lot of things ;)_

* * *

**ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS FANFIC-EVEN THOSE BASED ON REAL PEOPLE-ARE ENTIRELY FICTIONAL AND BELONG TO TREY PARKER AND MATT STONE. ALL THE CHARACTERS RETAIN THEIR ORIGINAL PERSONALITY... POORLY. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE, SHONEN-AI/YAOI/SLASH, POSSIBLE OUT OF CHARACTER, ETC., AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT, IT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE.**

* * *

9

Never

* * *

Smith's threat (or warning? ) had left me a splitting headache. That Sunday I didn't even finished my breakfast, I went upstairs and locked myself in my room quickly. I searched my clothes and I got dressed. I brushed my teeth, took my ushanka that was on my bedside table and left in less than ten minutes.

Passing through the living room, I could hear my father on the phone. He sounded pretty listless, and apparently the person on the other end of the line wasn't helping much. Sighing heavily, I went out slamming the door .

I could hear my mother scream again, this time asking who was the irresponsible that left a bowl of half-eaten cereal in the kitchen. Oh, well. 'Why the fuck do I care?' I thought, shrugging and starting to walk.

I knew where I was going. I needed to get away from my home, away from my parents, and away from the Guilty Notebook. I needed someone to listen to me without asking too many questions. I needed my best friend.

I arrived within minutes, and stopped at the door. I was going to ring the bell, but decided to come in. This was my second home, so fuck it. In the living room, Shelley was talking on the phone as if her life depended on it. Beside her on the couch, Randy Marsh drank a beer while watching TV. Without looking away from the screen, he raised his bottle at me in a greeting mood. I smiled a little.

"Kyle, what a surprise," Sharon 's voice surprised me, so I jumped a bit while looking at her. She was in the kitchen door, with a pink apron and a grimace that she couldn't dissemble. "Stanley is in his room, but he's busy," she formed a small smile that I found very strange. "He's with his girlfriend, you know?"

Her tone made me frown. Apparently she was saying it to bother me. What the fuck was going on? I formed a fake smile, and climbed the stairs quickly.

Arriving at his door, put my hand on the latch of the door and stopped right there. If Wendy was there, maybe I shouldn't come in as it was my home. What if they were having sex or something? I couldn't return to see Stan's face again. Although I'm not a gossip, I slightly pressed my ear against the door.

I heard a few giggles, and the characteristic sounds of two teenage lovers exchanging saliva and caresses. They were making out. Great. I thought about banging on the door with my knuckles to interrupt and ruin everything, but I chose not to. At the end, Stan deserved time alone with his girlfriend... at which time she wasn't dictating life lessons and he wasn't vomiting.

I slowly walked down the stairs, taking my time. If I couldn't talk to Stan, I had to talk to Kenny. Whatever.

"Hey boy," Randy 's voice stopped me right at the door. I turned around expectantly. "Tell your father that we miss him at the bar. Oh, and tell your mother to stop being a psycho bitch, okay?"

"RANDY, SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Sharon's angry voice echoed in the kitchen, while Randy and Shelley laughed loudly, high-fiving each other. I smiled, nodding profusely.

I left the house with the same smile. I obviously wasn't going to give those messages on my home. First, because telling that to my father would add fuel to the wild fire that was that marriage. And second, because telling that to my mother would only get her to disfigure my face with a slap.

I hid my hands in my jacket for the cold. In my hurry, I had forgotten my gloves. I went to South Park's _'poor side'_. There was a glaring difference between the two sides of the city. The houses began to be deteriorated, the streets were unpaved, and began to abound abandoned cats and starving dogs.

My stomach hurt. I remembered all those times I laughed at Kenny for being that poor. Why are we so cruel? I guess we don't realize the harm that our words make.

I arrived at the Kenny's house, recognizing its badly painted dull green walls. I swallowed hard, and I hit the door with my knuckles slowly. I waited a moment, and I heard some footsteps approaching. The door opened, and a twelve years old girl smiled at me hugely.

"Hi Karen," I greeted her cheerfully, crouching slightly so she could kiss my cheek gently. "Is Kenny at home?"

"Yeah! And look what he bought for me!" she exclaimed, getting away from me to show me her dress. Clearly it was new, in a very vivid turquoise. "It isn't from the flea market! It's new, really!"

"It's beautiful!" I answered, honestly amazed by the joy that Karen had by simply having a new dress. "You look very pretty."

"Thank you..." Karen looked down blushed, hiding a lock of her brown hair behind her ear

"Hey! Are you flirting with my little sister?" said a familiar voice, and looked up to meet Kenny's mischievous smile. "You bastard!"

"You're a fool, Kenny!" Karen laughed nervously, still blushing. She gave me one last look and went away running, surely to her room.

Kenny made a gesture with his hand to greet me, and I went into his house slamming the door behind me. He told me to follow him, and so I did. We went to his room, and it was amazing the difference between it and the rest of the house. His room was nicely painted and with large posters on the walls, there was a TV, a DVD player and a huge collection of porn movies stacked. Kenny used the money he earned in his work on stuff for him, and for his little sister.

"So... what brings you to my home sweet home?" he asked cheerfully, sitting on his bed and telling me to do the same

"Well... I needed to talk to someone," I muttered, sitting down next to him and sighing. He looked at me expectantly, and I knew I had to start talking. "You see, Smith came to my house. He said very strange things, and he freaked me out a little bit ..."

"He's not a pedophile, if that's what you're worried about," he suddenly interrupted. I looked at him with raised eyebrows, and he chuckled. "Forget about it."

"He said that if necessary, I could force Cartman to continue his treatment. He said it was very important..." I stopped to see his expression. He was just staring at me, quietly. "He also said that if I didn't try, I could regret it. I think it was a threat."

There was a small silence. I waited for him to speak, but he didn't. He stared at me if without saying a word, quiet to the point that I felt extremely uncomfortable.

"Oh well," he said ten minutes later with a deep sigh. He shrugged. "I don't think he has threatened you... but I think you should listen to him."

"Why?" I questioned, frowning slightly. Starting to get mad. "What do you know about all this, Kenny? Because I KNOW you KNOW what the hell is this all about. Now tell me."

Kenny was silent a moment , his mouth opened to say something but didn't speak. He closed his mouth slowly, thinking. He took another deep breath, resting his hand on my shoulder amicably.

"Listen, Kyle, I'd love to tell you," he began to speak, in a serious and gentle voice. He got closer to me. "But I can't. Seriously, I can't. The less you know the better."

"Fuck that!" I shouted, completely pissed. I shook violently to rid off him and I stood up. "I'm tired of all this fucking mystery! I have a terrible headache, and it's as if you had a drill and did holes in the skull! Don't be a bastard, Kenny!"

I stopped to get some air. Breathing irregularly, but no regrets that I had screamed that way. Seriously, I was tired of all this shit. Kenny stared at me in silence, still sitting on his bed. Patiently waited for me to calm down, and when I did I sat down again, snorting.

"Are you done with bitching?" Kenny consulted with the same serious and boring voice he used before. I nodded still annoyed. "Perfect. You can be a bitch all you want. But I won't open my mouth," he sentenced, using a dark tone of voice that chilled my blood . After a few moments, he smiled tenderly. "I only ask you to try and help him. Trust me, Kyle. I'm begging you, dude."

I looked into his eyes, completely horrified by what I heard. The way he spoke sounded really like he was begging. But why the hell was this so important? The head was spinning, I felt so dizzy I thought I would faint from time to time. I asked myself internally if Cartman knew about al of all this... I even thought that this was a stupid prank from him. A really heavy prank. Heavy as his fat ass.

"Are you serious?" I asked softly, about to give up. Kenny nodded slowly, putting his arm on my shoulder affectionately. He was being sincere. I sighed deeply again, closing my eyes for a moment. Right. "Okay. I'll do it. I will try to help Cartman, right? Now stop acting like a jerk."

"Thank you," Kenny whispered, breathing in relief. He briefly patted my back and turned away from me, chuckling. It seemed that he wasn't tense at all anymore. "If you want, I can help you. You need to talk to Cartman."

"Oh, really?" I refuted sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "But he runs away from me, and that sounds ridiculous."

"Don't worry about it, I'll take care of everything," Kenny's smirk worried me a little. "I have a plan. You won't like it. But I don't give a shit."

* * *

"Guys, I'm not sure about this..." Stan muttered, looking in all directions nervously. "They'll ground us..."

"You're acting like Butters," I chuckled, shaking my head. In the hallway, in front of the boys' bathroom, I could see who was coming strategically

"Yeah, Stan. Stop being such a fag," Kenny muttered, still looking for something in the many pockets of his pants. Stan glanced at me, studying my reaction.

"You know, Kenny? I prefer the term homosexual or gay," Stan spoke in pretty high voice, to make clear his position. Without getting his eyes off me in dissimulation, of course. "That term you used and I refuse to pronounce, is extremely homophobic."

"Stan," I pronounced clearly, smiling lightly when he looked at me. It was funny to see Stan change his words in front of me. But it wasn't necessary. "Stop being a sissy fag, will you?"

"Yeah, and I'm not homophobic," Kenny said, furrowing his brow slightly as he continued searching increasingly frustrated. "I like girls, boys and ponies... Pinkie Pie is a sexy bitch, isn't she?"

Stan and I exchanged confused looks, but who the hell am I to judge? If Kenny wanted to have sex with a pink little pony... that was his problem, right?

"And here it is..." Kenny said, holding a small key in front of us. "I had to make a little favor the Janitor Lady, but... it was worth it!"

"Yuck," Stan wrinkled his nose at that, and I couldn't help but chuckle. The truth is that Janitor Lady wasn't an example of beauty and youth. "You have a prodigious stomach, man."

"I know, right? I can eat anything," Kenny laughed, winking. I was going to say something else, but I saw someone coming and I acted quickly

"There he comes!" I whispered to my friends, and they formed a sort of barrier in front of me, so nobody could see me

I looked through a small gap between my friends' bodies, and I clearly saw Cartman into the bathroom. It was time.

"Here I go," I assured, breathing slowly to relax. I began to walk to the bathroom, but I turned around briefly. "Close the door and don't let anyone get close. I'll try to be quick, but I don't promise anything."

"Do what you have to do, Kyle," Kenny nodded, as he and Stan walked towards me. "Anything. Even a blowjob."

"Kenny, shut up!" Stan said, gritting his teeth. I just shook my head.

"All right, it doen't have to be a blowjob. It may be an innocent handjob..."

Ignoring that stupid comment from Kenny, I went into the bathroom quietly. As I didn't saw Cartman, I assumed that he was in one of the cubicles. I slammed the door shut, and I could hear the click of the key locking us.

I patiently waited for Cartman to get out, leaning against the door. My backpack seemed heavier on my back and my legs were shaking slightly... but what the hell was going on with me? I stopped breathing when one of the doors of the cubicles was opened.

Cartman left the cubicle without addressing me a single glance, like I wasn't there. He devoted himself to wash his hands thoroughly, then dry them with a paper towel. He took his backpack from the ground, heading for the door... and then he saw me.

He stood looking at me a few minutes, unable to hide the surprise on his face. However, he recomposed and frowned.

"Get out of the way, Jew," he ordered, starting to walk towards me

I got away quickly, and he tried to open the door... without success. He struggled a bit with the latch, pushed his weight against the door, but got nothing.

"Great, a funny asshole locked us here," he muttered, slamming the door with his fist. He was silent, as if he was getting all straight. "It was you, right?"

"Right," I admitted, unable to avoid a victorious smile on my face. "You forced me, fatass."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, almost shouting and looking at me with all the hate he could. "You know what? I don't give a fuck. Just open the door and leave me alone."

"Believe me, I would but..." I faked a dramatic expression, with my hand on my forehead artistically. "I don't have the key. Kenny and Stan have it. Guys, say hello to the fatass!

"Hey, fatass!" we heard my friends in chorus, followed by their outrageous laughter

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, retards?!" Cartman shouted, starting to hit the door with his fists and kicking occasionally. "Let me out, and maybe I'll kill you guys quickly, instead of torturing you slowly."

"Sorry, Cartman," Stan replied, still laughing a little. "You're not getting out for a while."

"They'll get you, and they'll send you to the counselor," the fatass warned, obviously desperate and using his last resources

"Oh, no problem with that!" Kenny continued laughing, then he sang. "After fucking the Janitor Lady, I can perfectly fuck Mr. Mackey."

"Dude! Now that's disgusting!" my best friend complained, and I thought I heard him gagging to vomit

Kenny roared with laughter at that, and then he began to imitate Mackey's voice... in a very, very nasty way.

"_Oh, yeah, McCormick! Pound me harder, mkay?!_"

"You're a fucking pervert, Kenny," Cartman sentenced, giving up finally. "Well, I'll stay here locked. You guys will get tired, and you'll let me go. So Kenny, get ready for some ass action."

"I'm always ready, you know?"

"Fuck you."

A fairly heavy silence was formed. Cartman dropped his backpack on the floor, and then he sat on the floor. He looked at me a moment, as if waiting for me to do something, but then pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and began to write in it.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked, sitting on the floor too

"Something called _'Not your business, you sneaky Jew'_" he said with a stupid grin, without looking away from his phone

"I don't care what you do with your phone, but if you're gonna start jacking off, make sure it's not in front of me," I warned him, laughing a little. He gave me the middle finger without looking at me, and continued on his own. I snorted. "Do you know why we are locked here?"

"Yeah, I know," he replied after a few seconds, with the same shit-eating smile. "It's 'cause you're a repressed fag, and you fantasize about me fucking you in the bathroom. Well sorry, Kahl. I'm out of your league."

"Screw you, Cartman. You wish to have sex with something other than your hand," I answered, with a smirk on my face. Cartman chuckled, but said nothing. "We're here because you've been running away from me we for almost a week. Why was that?"

"Running away from you? Bitch, please!" he snapped in a quite shrill voice. He took his eyes from his phone a moment to look at me with raised eyebrows. "Why such an awesome specimen like me, would run away from a Jew rat like you?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"Fuck off."

He turned back to his phone small screen, continuing his business. I sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of my nose as Stan would do. I knew this shit wouldn't be easy, but neither had the patience to deal with him. We had to fix this, and do it quickly.

"Listen, fatass. I'm not doing this because I care," I made that clear, talking a little bit louder to get his attention. I glanced at me sideways, and I continued. "I do it because your mother trusts you and believes you can recover. And to be honest, I've been thinking about it, and I realized that maybe can you CAN change. Maybe there's some light within you. Don't you think it would be great if people stopped hating you? Wouldn't it be great to help your friends, without expecting anything in return? Wouldn't you feel better, being a better person?"

Cartman stared at me, as I caught my breath. Talking so fast always left exhausted, but almost always I did was to issue a lengthy sermon. And that was worth it... well as I said, almost always.

"Are you done with your gay little speech?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. Snorting, I nodded slowly. "I'm glad because I couldn't stand it anymore. There are rainbows from your ass, Kahl. You're a fucking fairy. Your name should be Tinkerbell... but of course, Tinkerbell isn't a Jew bitch.  
"Go to hell, fatass! I'm tired of this!" I cried, really exasperated. I stood up quickly, and began to pace around the small space, nervously. "I don't understand, I really don't. A week ago, you apologized to your mother. She believed you, and you both even shared a nice moment together. Then you apologized to Thomas, and you even felt guilty! Why the fuck do you want to throw all of that away?"

"That doesn't mean anything, Kahl," he replied softly, looking at his phone to avoid looking at me. "All this treatment is a waste of time. You don't care, and neither do I. Let's leave everything as it was, and forget about it."

"No, no way! Don't come to me with that bullshit!" I continued screaming, not caring who heard me. I was angry. "This is for your own good, Cartman! For that one day you look in the mirror and you can be proud of who you are! So you can tell your grandchildren how you overcame your own demons! Now explain to me! Why the fuck do you want to leave me... to leave it all this way?!"

I was yelling stupidly, and I knew it. What I said made no sense, but I didn't care. All I cared about was to make him understand that if he didn't continued his fucking treatment, Smith would harass me up when I went to the shower, making me wonder if he was a pedophile or not.

In just a split second, Cartman stood dangerously approaching me. As further he walked towards me, I walked backward until my backpack hit the wall hard. Cornered, I could only look up to face Cartman's huge anatomy.

"You really want to know, Kahl? Okay, I'll tell you!" he hissed in a poisonous way, like a snake trying to intimidate a small mouse. The darkness of his eyes froze my blood, and his warm breath brushed my face. "I want to leave this 'cause I realized I'm never going to change. I'll NEVER change. I'm what you see and what you see is a monster. I don't give a fuck what my future grandchildren will think, if someday I have them. I don't care about the image I get from the mirror: I live with my reflection as I can remember."

He paused a moment, just to lean a few more inches toward me, to the point that his face and mine were separated by just a small space.

"And what about you, Kyle? Who do you think you are to teach me how to live my own life? Do you have a perfect life? Have you ever done something that makes you feel damn guilty?" he continued talking to the same cold tone from before, and I couldn't help but stare into his eyes unable to move. He hit the wall with his hand hard before continuing. "Maybe you think you're better than me, but guess what? You're not! You're so fucked up, just like me, and you know it. You do this for your own benefit, even if you won't admit it. Because you're just a Jew fag with superiority complexes. I wish you could see that you're the antidote to everything... except for me."

He walked away from me slowly, and I finally was able to relax my tense muscles. I lacked a little breath, so I inhaled and exhaled a few times. I looked at him with obvious disappointment in my eyes. I couldn't believe that I had tried to help this animal. He was right: he would never change. And if things were like this, I wasn't going to continue wasting my time with him.

I took off my backpack, opened it and pulled out the red notebook. I threw it at his feet with contempt, then put my backpack back on and headed to the door without even looking at him. I banged my fists tightly, feeling tears of rage agglomerate into my emerald orbs.

The door opened after a click, and I got away from that place. Like it was hell itself and it burned me. I could hear Stan's screams, telling me to come back, but I didn't stop for a moment. I had to get away from there. Fast.

I left High School, and I fell on the stairs that ran into the street. I hid my face in my hands, and I let myself mourn. I wasn't crying because I was sad or offended, I cried because I was angry. Since the sixth grade, I always cry when I get angry. It's a horrible habit that I hate with my soul, but I couldn't help it.

I heard footsteps approaching, but I didn't bother to see who it was. I felt someone sit next to me and spent his arm around my shoulders to try to comfort me.

"I know you're angry, dude," he muttered, squeezing me a little more against him. "But there's nothing that a best friend hug cannot fix."

* * *

Hey there again!

It didn't took too long, right? I surprised myself by how fast I wrote this chapter :D

I think that's what happens when you put a Kyle and a Cartman trapped in a bathroom. Result: screams, kicks to each others egos and angry tears. Oh, drama xD Did you like it? Just tell me ;)

Oh, and yeah, Mackey is South Park High's counselor xD

* * *

Special Thanks to...

... **ActionGal07** for _Reviewing!_

... **Feniella of Suburbia, Pacman2013, Idkgirl27, Ringo-Tensai, Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle, RockyRockster99, Jena-Tomas, Rrooftops, Ladybugs, MarcielleTehKat,** **LustForLetters,** **Mistress of Craziness, Furjoshi, Mariseby, Dehateh, Sleepy L. Head, Izzy-2d-x, KahlLittleMonster **and **Zeakile **for adding this story to _Favorites!_

... **Idkgirl27, Michi-chan2, Feniella of Suburbia, Coolcass21, JoannaKuwabara, Pacman2013, Jasmine-Kyman-Cartyle, PinkXCloud, RockyRockster99, Magical Librarian, PosionSkittle, CandiePie, Gingersnaps13, MarcielleTehKat,** **LustForLetters,** **Mistress of Craziness, Timid Offerings, Furjoshi,** **Mariseby, Dehateh, Sleepy L. Head, KahlLittleMonster, Pancakeatebatman, Yu-chan-x3 **and **Zeakile** for _Following_ this story!

... the _Ghost Readers_, at least for _reading_!

* * *

And that's all. Where are you, guys? Dear **ActionGal07** was my only reviewer :'( I must admit it: I felt really disappointed about not seeing your reviews. But that's okay, I guess. I'll be right here waiting for you, no matter what :3

Any mistake, constructive criticism, death threats or love confessions: PM and we can talk about it xD

_Read_ you soon!

_-*-_-*-_KovatePrivalski97._-*-_-*-_


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